Into the Deep
by Jennifer Campbell
Summary: Irina escapes CIA custody and the hunt begins, changing Sydney's and Vaughn's lives forever. AU. SV. Completed.
1. Default Chapter

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** I have to admit a little nervousness about posting this story because I've never written an Alias story before. I've written plenty of fanfic, but I'm not sure how this fandom will receive my work. So please, like it or hate it, let me know! Please review. There's nothing more deflating than a story that gets no feedback. If you'd like to read my other fanfiction, it's at http://www.geocities.com/c645900/mosaic/index.html 

This is a repost of chapter 1, after some edits. Thank you to Neptune for the helpful critique. 

Also I should point out that this is an alternative universe story. Some things are the same from season 2; others are not. You'll find out, as the story unfolds. Enjoy! 

##

"Hello. Sark speaking."

"I'm out."

"I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Everything went according to plan?"

"Of course. The information is being analyzed as we speak. I'm surprised at how accessible the CIA's computer system is from the inside, to those who have no clearance."

"What amazes me is that you managed to break out of a maximum security cell in the middle of a government facility, filled with armed guards, and get out alive."

"You have your secrets, and I have mine. How are you faring with our new ally?"

"Surprisingly well. Sloane is so eager to show his good faith in our arrangement that he has already opened many of the necessary files."

"Good. ... And Jack?"

"He's a pain in the ass."

"He always has been."

"Shall I have a plane waiting to take you to headquarters?"

"Not just yet. There is something else in Los Angeles that requires my attention."

"Need I remind you that the CIA undoubtedly has already initiated a manhunt? If they find you, it will not go easy."

"Perhaps not, but this is important. I'll be in touch."

#

Three of them gathered in the office of CIA Director Devlin, then shut the door against unwanted ears. The director himself sat in his chair, hands folded on his desk. Agent Jack Bristow sat across from him in the only other chair, and Agent Michael Vaughn leaned against the wall behind Jack.

The men looked casual enough, but Vaughn knew it was a charade. The conversation today was of the highest importance. The escape of a high- profile prisoner was bad enough, but Irina Derevko had also stolen intelligence from the CIA's own computer system. It was a catastrophe and an embarrassment to the agency. And Director Devlin needed answers.

"How could this happen?" Devlin demanded. "That woman was guarded 24 hours a day and locked up behind bars. How the hell did she manage to get out? Where was the guard?"

"Well, that appears to be the problem, sir," Vaughn said. "Her guard is the one who let her out. He admitted to it under questioning about a half-hour ago. He apparently was well-paid for his services."

"Well-paid my ass. I suppose the man has no clue he has just unleashed a very dangerous woman on Los Angeles, with who knows what intelligence -- "

"We have agents working on that," Jack interjected. "And with all due respect, we should be focusing not on how she got out, but on how to get her back."

Devlin heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his fingers along his forehead as he said, "All right then. How do we get her back?"

Jack leaned forward intently. From Vaughn's vantage, he couldn't see Jack's face, but he knew how his fellow agent would look now. Cold eyes, stern expression. Jack's rigid shoulders and stiff back told Vaughn how tense he was, how worried -- just as they all were. But years of training and playing double-agent at SD-6 had taught Jack Bristow how to focus only on the job at hand. Vaughn envied that skill.

"We've already sent out teams to look for her," Jack answered, his words cool and clipped. "But we can only guess at what her intentions are, or where she would go."

Devlin said, "You of all people should be able to guess her intentions. She's your ex-wife, after all."

Jack stiffened even more, but his voice betrayed no anger. "History has proven amply that I do not know that woman."

"But you have a guess," Devlin pressed. "Jack, any speculation is worth hearing. Because right now, we have nothing."

Jack paused, then said slowly, "I believe she might attempt to contact my daughter. Irina asked about her more than once during her confinement, and I refused to answer."

"You think your daughter might be in danger?"

Before Jack could answer, Vaughn interrupted. "Irina hasn't attempted to contact your daughter --" He floundered, searching for a name.

"Sydney," Jack said.

Vaughn nodded his thanks. "She hasn't tried to contact Sydney since she abandoned your family more than two decades ago. Why now?"

Jack bowed his head. "I can't answer that. As I said, I've proven a poor judge of her true intentions."

"Then how would you know now?" Vaughn asked.

"Call it a hunch."

Devlin scoffed. "And do you think we can spare agents to investigate a hunch? I need something more concrete."

At this, Jack's composure vanished. He stood and slammed his palms down on Devlin's desk, making them all jump. "You asked for my opinion, and I gave it. Sydney knows nothing of all this. She's a happily married English teacher who thinks her mother died in a car accident. She thinks _I_ sell airplane parts. She's vulnerable, and Irina knows it."

Devlin motioned for Jack to sit. "All right, all right. It's as good as any other theory we've got. Agent Vaughn, I want you and Agent Weiss to gather a small team and coordinate observation of Agent Bristow's daughter for a few days. Do not make direct contact with her. Just watch, and report back anything unusual."

Vaughn nodded. He would rather be working on an angle of this case that was based on more than a gut feeling -- even if that feeling belonged to the renowned Jack Bristow. He could think of more productive things to do than follow around a school teacher. But orders were orders.

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Jack, I want you coordinating search teams from here."

"Of course," Jack said, calmer now that he had reassurances on his daughter's safety.

Devlin stood. The meeting was over. Vaughn straightened from his slouch against the wall and smoothed his suit.

"Find her," Devlin said, and they all walked out into the controlled chaos of the CIA offices.

#

The final bell rang, and Sydney's students noisily slid their desks back to their original places. The class had circled up for a discussion on Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," standard reading for the high school crowd. They had been quiet at first, but Sydney had finally drawn them out into a satisfying talk. Now the students stuffed books into their backpacks and hurried for the door.

"Remember to read Act 3 for tomorrow. We will discuss it," Sydney announced, hoping at least some of her students had heard her.

She packed her own bag quickly, eager to get out for the day. She had watched the clear, crisp December day pass by outside the window all afternoon, and finally she had a chance to enjoy it.

"Ms. Bristow?"

"It's Mrs. Hecht now, Jason," she reminded the student who had stopped at her desk.

"Sorry."

"That's all right. Something I can help you with?"

"I'd like to talk about my grade on that last test."

Sydney glanced at her watch, a recent birthday present from Danny. "I have somewhere to be soon. How about we meet tomorrow morning before the first bell."

"All right," Jason said, although he sounded unenthused about arriving at school even earlier than the usual 8 a.m. start.

Sydney wrote him a hall pass. "If you have any problems getting into the building before the bell, just show them this."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hecht," Jason said, taking the pass.

"See you tomorrow then," Sydney said, and they both left the classroom.

Sydney weaved among the students at their lockers and into the gymnasium. A blue and silver banner swung high above the floor that read "Highland Rebels," with a cartoony rendering of a Revolutionary War soldier. Another banner said "Boy's Football, District Champs, 2000." Some members of the girl's basketball team already were warming up for practice.

Sydney crossed the gym floor and exited outside near the teachers' parking lot. Fewer students milled around on this side of the building. She nodded at a couple of fellow teachers as she walked toward her car. Her cell phone started ringing, and she reached into her bag.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hey, baby. How was your afternoon?"

Sydney smiled. The daily call from Danny.

"Oh, besides being cooped up on a beautiful day, I'm fine. Better now that I get to talk to you."

"Same here. Listen, I was going to pick up some food on the way home tonight. What sounds good?"

Sydney thought for a moment, listening to her grumbling stomach. "How about Chinese? There's that place up the street we've been meaning to try."

"Oh right. Oriental Palace. I'll be sure to pick up a lot of lo mein. I know how ravenous you get after kickboxing class."

"Didn't I tell you?" Sydney said as she reached her car and fumbled for the keys with one hand. "Francie and I are going Christmas shopping this afternoon."

"Won't your instructor give you a hard time about skipping class?"

"He'll get over it. Oh, and don't forget that Francie and Will are both coming over tonight. Dad couldn't make it. Something about a business dinner."

"I'll pick up some beer to go with the Chinese, then."

"Thanks. Listen, honey, I have to go. I promised I'd meet Francie in about half an hour."

"Sure thing. Love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

Sydney threw her phone in her bag and the bag onto the front passenger seat. She had 30 minutes to navigate traffic and get to the mall. She'd probably be a couple of minutes late, but Francie wouldn't mind too much.

As she slid into her seat and clicked on the seat belt, Sydney saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up. Standing not far away, where the parking lot ended and a lush city park began, stood a woman. She was perfectly still now, arms folded, and she was staring directly at Sydney. Long brown hair framed her face, and she wore a self- assured smile. Although Sydney had never seen the woman before, she looked familiar. Like a face from a dream.

A minivan drove between Sydney and the woman and stopped as a student climbed inside, obscuring Sydney's view no matter how she tried to see around it. By the time it had passed, the woman had vanished. Sydney laughed it off as simply one of those things, and started the car. Francie was waiting.

#

"So do you think Will would like that sweater? I'm still debating whether to go back for it," Francie asked between sips of soda. "I mean, what's the style for up-and-coming reporters nowadays?"

"Rumpled and unshaved, if Will is any indication," Sydney said, then grinned.

Francie laughed. "Yeah. I thought about getting him a tie, but he'd probably get coffee stains on it the first day he wore it."

Sydney chuckled. She took a sip of Coke and looked around the mall food court. They had chosen a table in the middle, with good viewing in all directions. Garlands and blinking lights hung along walls, and a chorus of large, mechanical teddy bears sang Christmas carols near the exits, to the delight of several children.

Sydney didn't care much about all that. She just loved watching the people -- young couples holding hands, harried mothers with three children in tow, teenagers trying to fill an afternoon. It amazed her that every last one of those people had a story to tell, about their life and hopes and dreams, and most of those stories probably were more interesting than her own.

"Sydney? Earth to Sydney." Francie waved a hand in front of her face, and Sydney snapped out of her thoughts.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm here. Really."

"What were you thinking about?"

She shrugged. "Nothing important."

"Uh-huh. I'm not buying it. You've been acting weird all afternoon. What's up? Is something wrong between you and Danny?"

"No," Sydney said quickly. "We're fine. We're ... normal. Wake up, go to work, come home to a feast of fast food and go to bed. The typical American household. All we're missing are the 2.4 children." She paused and sucked on her straw. "Maybe that's the problem. I'm getting into a rut. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a good suburban wife."

"Maybe you and Danny need to get out more."

"Maybe," Sydney agreed, slipping back into her thoughts.

Francie stood. "I'm gonna go brave the lines again and get a refill. Would you like anything?"

"No, thank you." Sydney smiled brightly to assure her friend she felt fine. Francie gave her a concerned look before heading toward the counter.

With Francie gone, Sydney could drop the smile for a few minutes and sink back into her thoughts. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She had been in fine spirits all day, until now. She enjoyed holiday shopping and spending time with her friend, and she wanted to make this a good experience. Whatever was wrong, it was time to snap out of it, if only to get Francie off her back.

Determined to force herself into a good mood, she resumed her people- watching. An elderly lady was have trouble carrying her shopping bags across the food court and had to stop every few steps to set them down. Sydney was about to go help her when a man in a suit beat her to it. Well, that was nice. Very much in the holiday spirit.

At a nearby table, a father was explaining why a young child couldn't play with toys intended as gifts for other kids. The child started crying. People sitting nearby gave the father pointed looks as he tried unsuccessfully to quiet the howling. Sydney promised herself once again to never have children, no matter that Danny kept talking about starting a family.

Sydney's eyes wandered again, and her gaze landed on a table at the far end of the court, near the singing bears. It took her a moment to register what she was looking so hard at, and she gasped. It was the woman from the park. She had no food or drink with her, and was simply sitting calmly, staring back across the tables at her. Sydney's chest tightened.

Francie chose that moment to return. "You would not believe the chaos up there in line. I swear this old guy was about to beat on this other guy who cut in line --What's wrong? You're pale as a ghost."

Sydney looked urgently at her friend. "There's a woman at the far end of the court, long brown hair. She's watching us."

Francie craned her neck. "I don't see anyone."

"She's right back there." Sydney turned to point and stopped. The table was vacant. "She was there a second ago. She was watching me. And the strange thing is, I think I saw the same woman this afternoon at the school."

"So you're being followed now?" Francie smiled, amused. "I think you need to lay off the spy novels for a while."

"I'm serious, Francie."

"So am I. There is no evil stalker lady. But I do see a fine specimen of manhood over by the Subway." Francie grinned. "Take a look."

Sydney rolled her eyes but twisted around for a peek. She saw the man in question immediately. Tall and lean, dressed in a suit, light brown hair cut short and spiked just a little. He was leaning against the wall and talking on a cell phone. Sydney turned back around.

"Well?" Francie asked.

"Well what?"

She gave Sydney an exasperated look. "Well, what do you think? Does he rate a ten?"

"I'm not allowed to say. I'm an old married woman now and I'm not supposed to be looking at other men."

"Look but don't touch. That's my rule."

Sydney smiled a little and twisted around for another look. It seemed she made eye contact with the man, but he looked away too quickly to know for sure.

"Yeah, he's a definite ten. But tell Danny I said that, and I'll never speak to you again," Sydney said, and Francie laughed. "All right. Enough ogling men. Are you going to get that sweater for Will?"

"Don't know yet. I think I'd like to look at it again."

"Let's go then."

They dumped their drinks in the trash and weaved their way among the maze of tables and people. Sydney took one last glance at the cell-phone guy, but he had gone. Too bad. Maybe he and the creepy woman were in league together, Sydney thought, and laughed at her own foolishness. Being followed, indeed. Who would ever take that sort of interest in boring old Sydney Hecht?

#

"Damn. Derevko's vanished. Send a team anyway. She might hang around as long as Sydney is here," Vaughn said into his cell phone.

"Check. They're on their way," Weiss answered. "Should be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Give me a call when they get here."

"Sure thing."

He hung up and looked over at the friends, having their drinks toward the center of the court, and saw them both looking in his direction. He quickly dropped his gaze, and as soon as their backs were turned, he moved to a new spot. It wouldn't do to have them see him.

So what should he do now? Weiss had said the team wouldn't be here for another 15 minutes, but he couldn't just sit and wait. Devlin had told him no contact; however, the whole game had changed now that they knew Derevko was showing an interest in her only daughter. Sydney really would be safer if she knew at least some of what was going on.

Sydney and her friend got up to leave, and Vaughn followed. He wasn't about to let her out of his sight for one second.

#

In the department store, a table of discounted slippers caught Sydney's attention and she stopped. "Go find the sweater," she said to Francie. "I'll catch up."

Francie left, and Sydney started picking through the offerings. Maybe her father would like a pair for chilly nights. Then again, she couldn't picture Jack Bristow in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. Maybe for Francie then.

"They're nice," said a male voice beside her. Sydney jumped, and the man chuckled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She looked up at him. He smiled crookedly at her, and Sydney raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was the cell-phone man, standing right beside her, talking to her in the middle of the department store. The coincidences were coming on way too thick today.

"You didn't startle me. Much," she said with a small smile, to let him know she was teasing.

"I think you should get these ones," he said, picking up a pink pair. He gave her an appraising look. "No, not the pink ones. You don't strike me as a pink sort of girl."

Sydney tried to stifle a laugh. Was he hitting on her? She couldn't help but feel flattered -- he was even more attractive close up -- but hadn't he seen the wedding ring?

"They're not for me. I'm looking for a present for my father."

"_Definitely_ not pink, then," he said, and she smiled. He put the slippers back, and his expression suddenly changed, became serious. "You're Sydney Bristow."

Sydney caught her breath. What the hell? How did this man know her? And by her maiden name, no less. She backed away a couple of steps.

"Who are you? How do you know me?"

"Calm down, Ms. Bristow," he said, and pulled an official looking badge from his coat pocket. "I'm with the CIA."

"That's not real," she said, staring at the badge.

"I'm afraid it is. But it's nothing to panic about."

"And the fact that a CIA agent is following me is supposed to make me calm?"

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I guess I handled this wrong, but let me assure you that I'm here to protect you."

"From what? What is going on here?"

He glanced around, and up. Sydney followed his gaze to a security camera in the ceiling.

"We can't talk about it here. Too many eyes. All I can say is that your life may be in danger. So listen carefully. I will call your house tonight and ask for Joey's Pizza. Say it's a wrong number and hang up. That will be your cue to meet me, and I'll answer all your questions."

Sydney felt like she had stepped out of herself. This had to be a dream, or someone else's life, or something out of one of her spy novels. She couldn't process it. She was on auto-pilot, and she said the first words that came to her mind.

"Meet where?"

"Do you know the old warehouse just south of here?"

"The textile one, that had the fire a couple years back?"

He nodded, and glanced around again. "I'll call. Be ready."

With that, he left, and Sydney stood dumbfounded by the slippers, staring at the table but not seeing anything. Strangely enough, she wasn't scared. She knew she should be scared. Her life might be in danger, if this mystery man was to be believed. He might be some crazy person trying to lure her to a secluded place so he could do unmentionable things to her, but Sydney had always prided herself on her judgment of character. And this man, she believed, was telling the truth. She could see it in his eyes.

He said he would call her, a promise that might just sweep her up into a events beyond her control. That sounded frightening and exciting, all at once. It made her pulse pound harder.

So maybe she would meet with him when he called. For certain, she knew she would keep it secret. Telling her friends or Danny that a CIA agent had contacted her would be a mistake.

"You're still here?" Francie asked, startling Sydney. "You've been staring at the slippers for what ... twenty minutes?"

Sydney grinned a bit sheepishly. "I can't decide whether they'd be good for Dad. What do you think?"

"Your dad in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers?" She picked up a pair for inspection. "I don't think so."

"You're right. Did you get the sweater?"

"Yep. Right here." She held up a bag.

"Great. Then it's about time to head over to my place. Danny might be home by now, and we don't want dinner to get cold."

They chatted about inconsequential things, all the way out to the cars. Sydney didn't see either her mystery man or the brown-haired woman, and she was surprised to realize that she was disappointed.

#

"You what?" bellowed Jack. "Didn't you hear what Devlin said? He specifically said no contact. So at the first opportunity you told her you're CIA? What the hell were you thinking?"

Vaughn stood firm against the tirade. A few agents glanced their way, but most at least kept up the charade of minding their own business. It occurred to Vaughn that the middle of CIA offices probably wasn't the best place for this conversation.

"If you would just listen --"

"I _trusted_ you with watching my daughter and you completely blew it!"

"Will you please hear me out?" Vaughn yelled, and Jack shut his mouth. He folded his arms and stared at Vaughn with an expectant, angry look. "Thank you. Now Devlin gave those orders before we had any idea that Derevko was watching Sydney. You said you wanted to keep her safe, and I'm acting on that. As the situation stands, ignorance is your daughter's worst enemy. The danger doubles when she doesn't have a clue as to what is going on, when she's not even aware that she needs to protect herself."

Jack pursed his lips but didn't answer.

"You know I'm right," Vaughn pressed.

After a pause, Jack nodded. "Maybe you are," he conceded. "I guess what I really want to protect Sydney from is this life. I don't want her drawn into it."

"I understand. But there isn't a choice here."

"Who is watching her now?"

"Weiss is staked out at her house. He'll call if anything happens."

Jack nodded. "All right. Schedule the warehouse meeting for around 8. I have a business dinner now that I can't miss, but two hours should be enough time."

He started to walk away, but Vaughn blocked his path. "You're coming to the meeting?"

"Sydney doesn't know you. You tell her what's going on, and she probably won't believe you."

"But she will believe you, her father," Vaughn finished, catching onto his logic. "You do realize that this will blow your cover with her. She'll know you've been lying to her for years."

Jack looked sad. "Maybe it's time to lay those lies to rest."

##

continued ...

Feedback please?


	2. chapter 2

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** This is a revised version of this chapter. Thank you to Neptune for the beta. 

## 

Will picked up a small card off the orange pile and read it out loud. "'Take a ride on the Reading.' Does anyone own the Reading Railroad?"

"I do. Plus two other railroads. Ha!" Francie said. "One hundred dollars, please."

Will grumbled as he moved his marker across the board, then forked over the play cash. "I'm poor. You realize that? You're going to put me in the poor house."

"Oh, poor baby," Francie taunted. "Now roll again. You got doubles."

Sydney watched with a grin as her friends teased each other from across the board. She hadn't been too sure about playing Monopoly when Danny had suggested it, but she was having fun. It took her mind off other things, like the impending phone call and the warning that her life was in danger. All that seemed far away and rather ridiculous now, while she sat on the living room floor and did normal things with her friends.

Will landed on jail. Then Sydney rolled. Danny squeezed her shoulder lightly as he stood up and stretched.

"I'm gonna get another beer," he said. "Anyone want anything while I'm up?"

"I'll have another, too," Will said.

Danny nodded. "Francie?"

"Oh, I've had too much already," she said, pointing to her two empty bottles.

"How about you, baby?"

"Nah," Sydney said. She was still working on her first beer, careful to strike a balance between being sociable and staying sober. If the agent contacted her, she would need to be at her best.

She moved her little dog marker around the board and landed on a property she already owned. Then it was Francie's turn. She landed on luxury tax, and Will made a point of laughing uproariously. Francie stuck out her tongue.

Before Will could roll the dice, the phone rang. Sydney's heart started thudding as she jumped to her feet. "I'll get it," she yelled.

"I'm right here, honey," Danny replied from the kitchen. "Stay put. I've got it."

Sydney sank helplessly back to the floor. She couldn't put up a fuss over the phone without drawing attention. It probably wasn't him anyway. But what if it was? Didn't the CIA agent specify that _she_ should answer the phone? What if this messed up everything?

"Sorry. Wrong number," Danny said, then returned to the living room with two beers and handed one to Will. Sydney gripped the carpet hard in both fists.

"Who was it?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Oh, just a wrong number. Someone asking for Joey's Pizza. I've never even heard of the place."

Joey's Pizza. That was it! The signal! He had called after all. Now, she just had to get away without raising suspicions. She rubbed at her forehead and groaned.

"Oh, damn," she said, getting to her feet. "I forgot. There's something I need to pick up for class tomorrow. I have to go to the store."

"Can't it wait?" Will said as she crossed to the coat closet. "We're kind of in the middle of a game here."

"Yeah, Syd," Danny said, "you can get whatever it is in the morning. Before class."

She looked at them apologetically. "It can't wait. I'm sorry. I'll be back soon." 

She grabbed her purse and car keys and slipped out the front door before anyone could voice another objection. Her breath clouded as she walked to the car. The freshness of the night air helped to calm her down, get her racing heart under control. She was going to a secret meeting with a CIA agent. It was really happening. Part of her couldn't help but giggle like a little girl, but on her more serious side, she knew this wasn't a game. It was deadly serious, with emphasis on the deadly. She wondered, as she started the car, where this dangerous path was leading to.

#

Sydney drove around the warehouse for almost ten minutes before finding a way inside. Chain-link fence surrounded the entire compound, except for one unlocked gate that she bumped open with her car. The asphalt inside was cracked and bumpy from disuse. She parked beside a sleek black sedan that she assumed belonged to the agent. From her purse, she retrieved a small knife, filched from the kitchen earlier that evening. Sydney was fairly certain the agent's intentions were good, but if not, then she might need a weapon. She tucked it in the back of her jeans.

A rusted metal door was left ajar, and Sydney opened it slowly. The interior was dark, and she wished she had remembered a flashlight. Enough moonlight shone down through holes in the ceiling, though, that she could make her way. This side of the building hadn't been too badly damaged by fire, but she saw evidence of charred wood and melted metal, and piles of rubble lay under places where the ceiling had caved.

Please oh please, she thought as she walked, don't let the ceiling crash in on me. She could just see the headlines in tomorrow's newspaper. Woman's body found crushed in condemned textile warehouse. Had to be identified by dental records. No foul play suspected. She was just stupid for going into a burned-out warehouse in the middle of the night ...

She passed through another chain-link gate and into an open room dotted with crates. The agent from the mall was sitting on one of the larger crates, hands folded in his lap, and he was smiling up at her.

"You made it," he said, relief evident in his voice. Sydney realized then that he hadn't been sure she would show. "I'm glad you came."

"So explain to me why I did come," she said as she approached cautiously.

He grimaced and said, "If you don't mind, Ms. Bristow, we're waiting on someone else, and it's important that he be here for this. Also, if we wait, we only have to have this conversation once."

"Oh," she said, and licked her dry lips. Another agent. It was getting crowded in here. "Can you at least tell me your name, or will that have to wait, too?"

He grinned. Sydney felt her cheeks heat, and she silently berated herself. She couldn't allow herself to react like that. Not with a husband at home.

"Sorry, Ms. Bristow." He stood and extended a hand. "I'm Michael Vaughn."

She shook his hand. "It's Mrs. Hecht now. But call me Sydney. Otherwise, it makes me feel like I'm at school."

"All right, Sydney. Would you like a seat? I can offer you a very comfortable crate. Just mind the splinters."

She chuckled and accepted the offer. He sat down next to her. He was still wearing his suit, she noticed. Must have been a long day at the office. Then again, maybe secret government agents didn't work normal business hours.

She asked, "So, when will this other person be here?"

"Soon, I hope." He glanced at his watch, then cocked his head, as if listening for something. She heard it, too. Footsteps. "I think he might be coming now."

The footsteps grew louder, and Sydney saw the beam of a flashlight reflect against the chain link. A tall man with confident bearing walked through the gate, but Sydney couldn't see him clearly over the flashlight's glare.

"Agent Bristow," Vaughn said. "You're two minutes late."

"Your watch is fast, Agent Vaughn," the man replied, and Sydney suddenly had difficulty breathing. She knew that voice all too well. "Sydney. Sorry to draw you away from Danny and your friends."

"Dad?" she said, so softly she could hardly hear herself. Vaughn had called him _Agent_ Bristow. But that was impossible. Wasn't it? She felt lightheaded and might have fallen off the crate if Vaughn hadn't noticed her swaying and steadied her. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

He turned off the flashlight and pulled up a crate across from Sydney. As soon as her eyes adjusted, she could see the uncertainty in his expression, like he wasn't sure quite what to say. That never happened. He always knew what to say. From that alone, Sydney knew the truth.

"You lied to me," she whispered. "All these years."

His shoulders stiffened. The uncertainty vanished, and in its place came a colder, stern expression she recognized all too well.

"How long?" she asked.

"Since before you were born."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Only a few months ago, before Sydney and her father had become reacquainted, he might have ignored her questions, told her she had no need to know. Now he shook his head and sighed.

"It was for your protection, Sydney. If it makes you feel better, you are the first person, outside the CIA, I've allowed to know about this in thirty years."

"Did Mom know?" she choked out. Tears were threatening to fall, and she wiped at her eyes harshly. "Or did you lie to her, too?"

"She knew."

Sydney wanted to reach for him, hold his hand, anything to find comfort. Her father, though, wasn't the sort of man who appreciated such gestures. It would show weakness. So instead she folded her trembling hands in her lap.

"This is hard to believe, Dad. In only a few hours, I've been contacted by the CIA and now I've found out my father isn't who I thought he was. This is a lot to take in all at once."

"Sydney, I wish I could soften this for you, but there's no easy way to reintroduce yourself to a loved one. All I can say is I'm sorry. I'm telling you this now because I care for you. Because I think you might be in danger."

Her life was in danger. The reason she had come here tonight. For the sake of that alone, she knew she had to set aside her emotions and focus on the problem at hand. So she wiped her eyes again and said, "It's the brown-haired woman, right?"

Vaughn and her father exchanged a surprised look. They hadn't expected her to know that. It made her feel better, that after the shocks they had dumped on her, she could surprise them, too.

"Yes, it's her," Vaughn said. "How did you know?"

"I saw her twice today. Once outside the school, and again at the mall food court. I saw you there, too, Agent Vaughn." She looked back to her father. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Irina Derevko. She's former KGB and now operates her own espionage organization, dealing in black market information and weapons. She escaped from CIA custody last night, and we have reason to believe she might want to take retribution against me."

"And hurting me is a way of accomplishing that," Sydney finished. "What did you do that she would want revenge for?"

Her father hesitated. "I can't tell you that."

"What does she want then?"

Vaughn answered this time. "We're not really sure."

Sydney couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "So I have a former Russian spy stalking me, and you can't tell me why. And you don't know what she wants." She could hardly believe the words. But she had to trust her father, despite the shock he'd handed her. Something told her she could trust Agent Vaughn, too. They would want her safe. They wouldn't make up a story like this. So Sydney took a deep breath and said, "What do I need to do?"

Her father gave her a small smile of approval. "Agent Vaughn can fill you in on that."

"Sydney, I've been assigned to head a team to watch you 24 hours a day, partly to keep you safe but mostly to catch Derevko if she comes near you again. I too saw her at the mall this afternoon, but she slipped away too quickly. She won't get away again.

"Now what you need to do," he continued, "is fairly simple. First, don't tell anyone. Not your husband, or your friends, or co-workers. It's for their protection."

"I understand," she answered.

"Good," he said, then pulled a slip of paper from his suit pocket and handed it to her. "This is my personal cell phone number. If anything should happen, call and I'll come, or I'll send a fellow agent, if I can't come. Memorize the number and destroy the paper. We can't have your husband finding it."

She read the number once, then handed it back to Vaughn.

He looked confused. "You need time to memorize --"

"Already done. Anything else?"

"Um, yeah." He reached back into his suit and pulled out a plain black cell phone. "When you call, use this. It's standard CIA issue. That way you won't be charged for calls, and my number won't show up on your phone bills."

"Sydney," her father said, "I can't stress enough how important it is that you call if you see or hear anything unusual. It is critical that we catch Derevko as soon as possible. It will go quicker with your help."

The phone went into her purse. She looked first at her father, then at Agent Vaughn. They both looked back at her without any effort to hide their concern.

"Are you all right with this, Sydney?" her father asked, and she understood his true question. He wasn't asking about her cooperation with the CIA. He wanted to know whether everything was OK between them.

The short answer to that was "no." No, she wasn't OK. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in real life. The long answer was a bit more complicated.

"We were never close when I was younger," she said after thinking it through. "The past couple of years have been nice, getting to know you again. I know you care about me and that you kept all this secret because you had to, but I wish you would have trusted me more. Mom knew. I should have known, too."

Jack sighed and nodded. "You need to get back."

"Yeah, Danny will be sending out a search party soon," Sydney said as she stood. "And I still need to drop by the store so I have something in hand when I get home. I told them I was going out for school supplies."

"Just be careful," her father said.

"You, too, Dad." She looked to Agent Vaughn. "Will I see you sometimes? Just to know you're there? I don't feel too confident about all this."

He half-smiled and nodded. "I'll be around."

"You go out first, Sydney," her father. "We'll keep watch and follow."

So Sydney went through the gate and retraced her steps to the car. She suddenly felt exhausted, like after kickboxing class or a long, hard run. It would take time to process everything that was said tonight. Her father was CIA. She was being stalked by a former Russian spy and would be under government surveillance 24 hours a day. And she couldn't tell a soul.

Well, she wanted excitement in her life. Just remember, she thought ruefully, take care what you wish for.

#

Francie had already gone by the time Sydney got home, and Will was saying his goodbyes. She hadn't expected to be gone for so long. After she had given Will an apology and a goodnight hug, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under her covers and never come out again.

Instead, while Danny washed the dishes, she pulled down a worn shoebox from the bedroom closet shelf and brought it to the bed. She sat cross- legged before it, and slowly lifted the lid to reveal one of her most prized treasures. Some of the old photos had started to fade, and the newspaper clippings had turned yellow with age, but it didn't matter much to Sydney. This was her childhood in this box. A time of innocence and trust that she had lost somewhere along the way.

She smiled as she lifted a photo of her and her dad. She was sitting on his lap at the kitchen table as he pointed to something in the newspaper laying in front of them. In another, taken at the beach, she sat on her father's shoulders with both fists in his hair while he tried not to wince. This was the father she wanted to remember. Not some secret government spy. She found it hard to believe that all those overseas trips to meet with clients had simply been his cover. No wonder he had never let his daughter accompany him, no matter how much Sydney had begged.

The dishwasher started its familiar _whirrrr_ sound in the kitchen, and Danny appeared in the bedroom door, wiping his hands on a dish cloth.

"The picture box," he said, scanning the array of photos she had spread across the bedspread. "You haven't pulled that out for quite some time."

"I haven't thought about it for a while," she said as he joined her on the bed.

He picked up a photo from the box and turned it over to read her father's scribbled handwriting. "Jack, Laura, Sydney and Tudy. On the beach." He flipped it over to study the smiling faces. "I see you, your mom and your dad. But who's Tudy?"

"My stuffed bear. See, I'm squeezing the life out of him there," she pointed, and he chuckled. "I loved that bear. Took him everywhere."

"Where's Tudy now?" Danny asked.

"I don't know. He disappeared when I was fairly young. I guess I left him in a hotel room or grocery store or something." She touched her fingertips to the photo. "I vaguely remember this trip. Mom asked some complete stranger to take the photo, right there next to the ocean. She loved the ocean. I always thought it was a little poetic how it was water that took her away from me."

Danny wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she leaned into the embrace. "She was a beautiful woman. Have I ever told you how much you look like her?"

"Only every time we look at the photos."

"Sydney, where were you for so long tonight?" he asked. "You were gone for almost an hour. I was getting worried."

"I couldn't find what I was looking for at the first two stores I tried," she said, making up the lie on the spot. "I'm sorry. I would have called but I forgot the cell phone."

"That's all right. But I'm not just worried about that. You've been acting a little off all night."

"Oh, thank you," she said sarcastically.

"I mean it. You hardly spoke a word, even with Will and Francie here. You barely touched dinner, and Chinese is your favorite. Now you've pulled out the photo box. You only do that when you're feeling down about something."

"I'm sorry," she said truthfully. "I guess I'm not feeling well. I didn't want to say anything with Will and Francie here."

His ran his fingers through her hair, a comforting gesture. "What's wrong?"

She pulled away to look at him, and he looked back with so much concern and love that Sydney wanted to drop the act right then, tell him everything and damn the consequences. Danny was her husband. He deserved to know. But he also would probably call the police or pack up the car and drive them to his mother's house in Nevada, and Sydney needed to be here. He wouldn't understand that she couldn't run.

So she said, "My stomach has been upset all afternoon, and I have a bit of a headache. I guess I'm just tired after a long day."

"Maybe you should go to bed, then."

"Thanks, baby," Sydney said, and gave him a kiss. He helped her put the photos back in the box, then retired to the living room with a book so she could have some privacy.

She went into the bathroom and locked the door. Instead of brushing her teeth, she simply stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. Her eyes were tired and worn, and they hardly looked like her own. What was happening here? She had just lied to the one person to whom she had promised to always tell the truth. Worse yet, the lying didn't stop here. It would go on as long as Derevko was on the loose. Sydney felt dirty, but no amount of bathing would wash away these stains.

The weight of the day finally hit her full-on, as she stood there in front of the mirror, staring at a woman who didn't quite look like herself. It was too much to handle. She sank to the cold tile floor, curled up against the cabinets, and cried.

##

Feedback please?


	3. chapter 3

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** Again, thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate it. Reviews make me a happy writer who writes more quickly, so keep 'em coming. Thank you to Neptune for the beta on this chapter. 

##

"Sark here."

"Analysis has come back. The CIA had only half the code. This is a setback I hadn't anticipated."

"Interesting. Do they know they're missing information?"

"Probably not, but there's no way to know for sure. According to our intell, there's a second box. We need to find it."

"And the reason you're telling me this is because ..."

"It's possible SD-6 knows its location."

"That's what I thought. I'll check into it. And the other matter you had to take care of?"

"The CIA is watching my daughter very closely now. This changes the situation."

"You still plan to contact her, though."

"Of course, but now I must do it when the CIA has its back turned. I have plans for Sydney. I won't give them up so easily."

#

Vaughn thought about his new assignment -- watching Agent Bristow's daughter -- as he ate breakfast, as he shaved and as he drove to work that morning. He had a difficult time thinking of anything else. He had been assigned to watch other people before, but Sydney Bristow -- no, Sydney _Hecht_ -- had affected him like no other. Most people, after finding out a loved one was CIA and they were the possible target of a dangerous plot, would become hysterical. But Sydney, so much like her father, had the unique gift of setting aside her emotions and working through the problem.

And she trusted him. That affected him more than anything else. They had met only yesterday, yet she had willingly put her safety into his hands.

He also thought about last night's meeting, and how Jack had given his daughter only crumbs of information. Half-truths. He had told Sydney about Irina Derevko, but not that Derevko was her mother. He had told her about the CIA but not about SD-6. Vaughn had to trust the senior agent to know what was best for his own daughter, but the lying left Vaughn with a bitter aftertaste. He hoped the omissions didn't get Sydney into trouble.

Once at work, Vaughn hardly had time to hang up his coat and grab a cup of coffee before Devlin called him into his office. The CIA director and Jack were already there, deep in conversation, when he walked in. Devlin looked up and waved Vaughn inside.

"Shut the door," he said, and Vaughn complied. "I was just telling Jack that we think we know what information it was that Derevko stole. It was intell on a Rambaldi artifact we recovered before SD-6 could get their hands on it. It's a small wooden box with carvings of symbols on the lid and sides. Nothing inside it. What's interesting is that the carvings appear to be a code of some kind."

"A code for what?" Vaughn asked.

"We're not sure," Jack answered. "No one has been able to decipher it."

Devlin said, "But we loaded all the information onto the computers for further study, complete with scans of the box. And now Derevko has that information."

Vaughn closed his eyes and thought it through. "So you're saying she turned herself into the CIA and endured weeks behind bars all so she could eventually find a way out and steal that information?"

"So it seems," Devlin said. "What she apparently didn't know is that there is a second box, and we have that one too, safe in our warehouses. I'm hoping that even if she does have a way of decoding those symbols, it won't be enough. She'll need the other box."

"And why are you telling me?" Vaughn asked. "My only responsibility in all this is to watch Jack's daughter, and surely she has nothing to do with these boxes."

"No, but I do," Jack said. "Irina will realize that either the CIA or SD-6 must know where the box is, and she knows I am in both organizations. So getting to me is the fastest way to get to the box."

"We think she might hold Jack's daughter for ransom against the intelligence she needs," Devlin said. "That might be why Derevko is showing an interest in Sydney."

Vaughn said, "So this has now become a matter of protection, not just surveillance."

"Correct," Devlin said.

"How do know that Sydney could be the target of a kidnapping? Is there some new information?"

"None," Jack said. "We have nothing concrete on Derevko. All we can do is act on what we think she is likely to do, but even that is not totally reliable."

Vaughn said, "Has it occurred to anyone that maybe Derevko just wants to get reacquainted with her daughter?"

"The timing is too coincidental," Jack said, shaking his head. "Wasn't it you who said yesterday that she has had twenty years to contact Sydney? Why now?"

"Because, as you pointed out, Sydney is vulnerable and Derevko knows it," Vaughn shot back.

"Enough," Devlin said. "The fact is, we don't know Derevko's motives. All we know is that she might make a play for Sydney. Which is why I want surveillance stepped up. Two agents watching Jack's daughter at all times. If Derevko shows, don't wait for backup. Go after her immediately."

"Yes, sir," Vaughn said.

"That's all, Agent Vaughn."

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Jack and Devlin were still inside, probably discussing the details of the stolen information. Vaughn pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"Weiss here."

"Eric, it's Michael."

"Good morning. I hope you're calling to tell me that my replacement is on the way. This has got to be one of the most boring nights of my life, sitting outside the Hecht's house. I'm at the school now."

"Any sign of Derevko?"

"None."

"OK. I'm on my way."

Vaughn hung up and pulled his coat back on. As he walked out to his car, he called another agent on the team to meet him at the school. Guess it would be another day of field work, and hopefully less exciting than yesterday.

#

Sydney forgot to set the alarm and woke up at a quarter to 8, with Danny snoring beside her. She had a moment of grogginess as she reached for the clock, then yelled "Dammit!" as she jumped out of bed and raced for the closet.

"What is it?" Danny muttered sleepily.

"We're late," she answered as she practically ripped clothes off their hangers. She threw a shirt and slacks at Danny. "Class starts in 15 minutes."

"And I have an 8:15 meeting. Damn."

Sydney pulled on her only unwrinkled dress -- a strappy sundress that was a little too flirty for school -- and buttoned up a sweater over the top. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and hoped no one would notice her lack of a shower. Danny delivered to the bathroom a breakfast bar and a glass of orange juice, for which she was grateful. And they made it out the front door by 7:55. First bell was in five minutes, but class wouldn't officially start until 10 minutes after that. She just might make it on time.

Her classroom was already half-filled when she walked in, and one student in particular, sitting at her desk, looked miffed at her late arrival.

"Jason," Sydney said, out of breath. "I'm so sorry. I overslept."

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Can we talk at lunch? I have class now, and I'm sure you have a class to get to."

"Sure, lunchtime is fine. Are you going to be here?"

"Promise."

Jason left. The bell rang, and Sydney's day began.

All morning, nothing seemed to go right. She couldn't get her freshman class to settle down enough to listen fully to her lecture and had to send two girls to the principal's office when a fight broke out. Next period, nothing obvious went wrong, but Sydney never did quite get into her groove.

Then came her free period, and she settled in for an hour of grading papers. She couldn't keep her mind on the essays, though, and her eyes kept drifting toward the window. She half- expected to see Irina Derevko staring back at her. Or maybe Agent Vaughn. Would Derevko dare to come into the school building in her quest for revenge against Sydney's father? Would Sydney even see her again now that the CIA was watching?

The bell rang, startling her from her thoughts. Sydney glanced down at her pile of paperwork and groaned. She had graded only two essays in an hour. She had to stop worrying so much and get her head back into her work. Nothing would happen to her while Vaughn and his agents were on the job.

She met with Jason at lunchtime and changed his grade from a D to a C, more for the obvious preparation of his arguments than for the merits of his test. Then she dropped by the office mailboxes, as she hadn't had time before classes began. It was the normal assortment of newsletters and notices, but one envelope caught her attention. It was white and unmarked. She opened it and read the note within:

"She hasn't shown. By the way, I like your dress."

Sydney grinned. No one but Agent Vaughn could have left that for her. She had no clue how he had managed to sneak it into her mailbox, but she really didn't care. It eased her fears to know he was keeping watch.

"Syd, hi," said a voice behind her, and Sydney turned around to see one of her fellow teachers also checking her box.

"Hi, Grace," Sydney said. "How's your day going?"

"Oh, fine. Normal. But you must be having a good day. You look like you just won the lottery."

"I got some good news," Sydney said, while folding up the note and tucking it back in its envelope. She'd shred it as soon as she had an opportunity, of course. But not yet.

The next few days continued much in the same way. Sydney went about her daily life of school, grocery shopping, kickboxing class. Occasionally she found Vaughn's notes --in her school mailbox, on her car windshield disguised as a ticket, once even in the mailbox at home. Those notes gave her confidence. She began to regard their stealth as a game, that Vaughn was sending her a covert mission orders, or even messages from a secret lover.

If Derevko had made more appearances, Sydney knew she wouldn't be so unconcerned; however, there hadn't been one confirmed sighting since that day at the mall. One afternoon at the grocery store, two days after the warehouse meeting, Sydney caught a glimpse of what could have been her brown-haired watcher, but when she looked closer, the woman was gone. She chalked it up to her active imagination. Maybe her CIA tails had scared off Derevko and the danger was over.

The week passed quickly. On Friday evening, Danny made their usual reservations at the Italian restaurant down the street. They arrived promptly at 7, and as a waiter guided them to their table, Sydney scanned the room for anything suspicious. It had become a habit of hers the past few days, although she didn't really know what to look for. She spotted Agent Vaughn at the bar. He didn't acknowledge her, but she relaxed just knowing he was there. 

Sydney settled into the booth across from Danny, and the waiter set down coasters with glasses of water. He slid two menus onto the table, but Danny gestured for him to take them back.

"We already know what we're having," Danny said. "Two lasagnas, breadsticks and two cokes."

"Actually," Sydney broke in. "I think I'll have the eggplant parmesan tonight."

The waiter nodded and left. Danny gave her a strange look.

"You always get the lasagna."

"Maybe I feel like a change," she said lightly. "The same thing week after week gets boring after awhile."

"Not for me," Danny answered, and took a sip of water. "I like to order what I already know will be good."

The waiter soon returned with their breadsticks. Danny grabbed for one and talked about his work between bites. As always, Sydney tried hard to look attentive. Danny loved his job so much, but Sydney had a tough time being interested in people she had never met.

"So then George got the promotion," Danny said. "Can you believe it? They put him in charge of the entire department, even after that stunt he pulled last month."

"Uh huh," Sydney said, and her eyes wandered. She noticed that Agent Vaughn had vanished from the bar area. That didn't worry her too much. He probably had moved to some other spot inside the restaurant.

"Sydney? Sydney?" Danny touched her hand across the table and Sydney smiled at him. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you."

"I'm sorry, hon. I'm just a little distracted."

He looked hurt. "It's all right. Wasn't that interesting anyway."

She squeezed his hand. "Listen, I'm sorry. Really I am. I'm going to go freshen up, and when I get back, you'll have my complete attention, and we'll have a nice, relaxing dinner together. OK?"

She grabbed her purse and made her way to the ladies' room. It was a small facility, with only two stalls and barely enough space to move around, but it practically sparkled with cleanliness.

Sydney had the restroom to herself, so she took her time brushing her hair. She dug into her purse for her lipstick and instead found other things, not so pleasant -- a serrated kitchen knife and a small spray bottle of mace. Her CIA issue phone was there, too. She pushed those aside and found her lipstick underneath.

After putting everything back in her purse and setting the purse on a small counter beside the sink, Sydney turned on the cold water and splashed it into her eyes. Maybe that would help her find her focus. She blinked, wiped her face clean with a paper towel and glanced up at the mirror. Someone was standing directly behind her.

She gasped and spun around. The woman smiled, but with no amusement.

"Sydney," she said. Her voice was soft and raspy.

"You're Irina Derevko," Sydney tried to keep from trembling but failed.

The woman's smile broadened. The coldness in her eyes gave Sydney goosebumps. "So they told you my name. What else did they tell you, Sydney?"

"N- Nothing," she stammered as she assessed her situation. Irina had positioned herself between Sydney and the door, and Sydney didn't have enough room to maneuver around her. With her back pressed against the sink, she was effectively trapped.

"I don't believe you." Irina stepped forward, leaving Sydney even less room.

"I'll scream."

"That would be bad for your health, I think." She set one hand on the sink beside Sydney's hip. "Because, you see, if you scream, I'll have to hurt you."

Sydney pushed down her panic. "There's a CIA agent in the restaurant. As soon as Agent Vaughn realizes I've been in here too long, he'll come looking."

"Agent Vaughn. Is he the tall handsome one with light brown hair?" Irina gave her a tight-lipped smile. "He won't be bothering us. So I'll ask you again. What did the CIA tell you about me? And I wouldn't advise lying. I'll know if you're lying."

Sydney didn't doubt that, and with no other options, she told the truth. "I know that you're former KGB and that you run an espionage organization. You were in CIA custody but escaped last week. And you want to take revenge against Jack Bristow."

"Your father, yes." Irina said intently. "Did he tell you all this?"

"No."

"Of course he did. Did he tell you anything else?"

Sydney shook her head.

Irina tapped her fingers against the sink. "Half-truths are so dangerous. Nothing about them is incorrect, and yet they are not the entire story."

"What did you do to Agent Vaughn?" Sydney demanded. "If you hurt him in any way --"

"You'll do what? You have no formal training. But I do. You wouldn't last a second." She tilted her head and looked into Sydney's eyes. "If you had talked back to me like that as a child I would have spanked you and sent you to your room."

Sydney gulped hard. What the hell was she talking about? She spoke like a mother to a child, but Sydney's mother died twenty years ago. Perhaps Irina Derevko was insane as well as dangerous.

"You don't believe me," Irina said, and shook her head. "I don't blame you. You've thought all these years that your mother was dead, and I've offered no proof to counter that."

She backed away a step and picked up her purse from the floor, which Sydney hadn't noticed before. With slow, precise movements, Irina put her hand in the bag and pulled out something small and brown. She held it out to Sydney, who hesitated.

"Go ahead. It won't bite."

Sydney took it, turned it over and her eyes started to water. It was a stuffed bear. One eye was missing, and patches of fur were lost to age. How had this woman found one that looked so much like the one Sydney used to have?

"You remember this, don't you, Sydney? I took it when I left. It sounds overly sentimental, I know, but I wanted something to remember you by. And you loved that bear so much. You took him everywhere. Do you remember?"

Sydney wiped her eyes. Irina was watching her, a hint of sorrow in her expression -- the first emotion Sydney had seen there. She looked harder, and she suddenly knew why Irina Derevko looked so familiar. She was an older reflection of herself. Sydney stifled a sob.

"Mom?"

##

TBC ...

Feedback please?


	4. chapter 4

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** Whew! This has been a busy week. Sorry for the extensive delay in posting this chapter. The next one is almost finished and should be coming in a few days. Thank you so so much for all the feedback. I love to hear what you think, so please keep it coming. 

## 

"How is this possible?" Sydney choked out. "You're dead."

"So you believe me now," Irina said with a hint of a smile.

Sydney set her jaw and refused to wipe at the tears on her cheek. She wouldn't give this woman that satisfaction. "Laura Bristow died when I was six. Her car went into a lake, and she drowned. That is what I believe."

"And you weren't wrong. In a way, Laura Bristow did die that day."

Sydney shuddered, finally understanding, at least a little, the totality of her life's lies. This woman might have borne her, but she was not her mother. In all the aged and yellowing photographs, Laura Bristow radiated joy and contentment. Irina Derevko had no such secret laughter; only cold calculation, each word carefully chosen for maximum impact.

They were two distinct people. It made it easier for Sydney to categorize it that way. To acknowledge to herself, after all these years, that her mother wasn't dead would be enough to send her into a nervous breakdown. Maybe that's what Irina wanted. She'd kidnap her comatose prey as part of some revengeful plan against Sydney's father.

So maybe you think that's all I am to you now. Not a lonely girl who misses her mother, but a mere pawn in your plots and schemes. But I won't let you push me around like that. I'm stronger than that. I won't let you see me cry.

"What do you want?" she asked, only her trembling voice betraying her overwrought emotions.

"I thought that would be obvious. I want _you_, Sydney." She leaned forward, forcing Sydney to press closer to the porcelain sink at her back. Irina locked her with an intense look. "I want my daughter back."

Sydney didn't feel like laughing, but she forced one anyway. "You never had me in the first place."

"I can teach you. Everything I know."

"You mean how to be a traitor?" she said with venom. "How to abandon your family and leave your daughter all alone?"

Irina drew back, as if Sydney had spit in her face. A grim smile curled at Sydney's lips. So you understand now, maybe, what you did to me when you died. You also see that you've lost the power of fear over me, because I know now that you won't hurt me. I see that in your eyes, too.

"Look around you, Sydney. Look at your life. A husband and house in the suburbs, lazy students. Maybe you'll have kids, a minivan and soccer games on weekends, but that is not you. You were meant for greater things."

"You don't know me. You have no right to judge my life."

Irina's jaw tightened, and she said quietly, "I don't have time to argue with you now. In a few days time, I will be leaving Los Angeles, and I want you to come with me." She put a finger to Sydney's lips before the retort could come. "I'll give you time to think about it. We will talk again soon."

She grabbed her purse from the floor and vanished out the bathroom door as silently as she had come, leaving Sydney panting in the corner and clutching a small brown bear. The room spun a little, so she closed her eyes and focused on taking air into her lungs. Just breathe. Just keep breathing. You'll be all right.

She saw images behind her eyelids, flashes of faces. Her father, her mother, Danny, Francie and Will. Then newer ones. Irina Derevko, different from her mother yet also the same. Agent Vaughn.

There she stopped. Her eyes snapped open, and she inhaled sharply. "Vaughn."

She grabbed her purse and bolted out the door, only to remember where she was, then she slipped back into the bathroom again. She couldn't go running aimlessly around a crowded restaurant. No, she needed a plan. Think, Sydney, think.

Irina had implied that she had done something with Vaughn, to get him out of the way, but she wouldn't have done it in the restaurant. Too many witnesses. She would have taken him outside, into the dark, and then left him there.

Sydney entered the short hallway outside the bathroom and unhurriedly turned the corner into the eating area. She spotted Danny in the far corner, chin propped up in one hand while he studied a painting hanging above the table. With a deep breath, Sydney straightened her back, pushed a lock of hair from her forehead, and walked out. She reached the front door in seconds, but it felt like hours, and she slipped outside without incident.

A winter wind hit her full in the face, and she shivered. She wished she had her coat, and smiled at the thought of Danny's reaction had she retrieved it from her chair before heading outside. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she looked both ways up the sidewalk, across the empty street decorated in Christmas lights. This area of town was well-lit, but she saw no sign of Vaughn.

She fumbled with her purse clasp and pulled out her CIA cell phone. With trembling fingers, she dialed Vaughn's number. It rang twice before Sydney realized she could hear Vaughn's own phone ringing from somewhere close by, off to her left. She followed the sound to the mouth of an alley, behind the restaurant. His phone lay discarded on the cement.

Sydney turned off her phone and picked up his. She squinted as she tried to see into the alley, but the shadows penetrated too deep. She could see the back door of the restaurant only by its porch light. Garbage cans, some overflowing, were scattered about.

Wind ruffled Sydney's hair, and she hugged herself tighter. She feared to walk into that darkness, but she forced herself to step forward. Then again. She kept her eyes pointed straight ahead. On the third step, her toe encountered something soft, and she looked down. It was a man in a suit, face down, his limbs splayed in all directions. Holding her breath, she rolled him over. It wasn't Vaughn. The man's vacant eyes stared to the sky, and his neck was bent at an impossible angle.

From farther into the alley came a sound, like a low groan. Sydney picked her way back until she found another man on the ground, this one very much alive. She knelt beside him and breathed a relieved sigh. She helped him scoot back until he could prop himself up against a brick wall. Vaughn rubbed at the back of his neck and blinked owlishly.

This close to the restaurant's back door and porch light, Sydney could see him clearly. Small cuts covered his face, and his suit jacket was ripped down one arm from shoulder to wrist.

"Vaughn. Are you all right?"

He didn't look it, but he nodded anyway. "Agent Johnson ..."

"I think he might be dead. There's a body, back toward the street."

"Derevko."

"Yes."

He rubbed his neck again. "Agent Johnson wasn't answering his phone, so I came outside to check on him. That's the last thing I remember. I must have gotten hit from behind." His eyes found his phone, still in her hand. "Can I have my phone?"

Sydney handed it to him, and he dialed. "This is Agent Vaughn at Panolli's Italian Restaurant on Sixth Street. ... Yes. ... I need a backup team here now. We have an agent down. ... Yes. ... Just get here."

He hung up and looked at Sydney. "Did she hurt you?"

"No."

"What did she want then?"

Sydney opened her mouth but words wouldn't come. Even though Vaughn might know that Irina was Sydney's mother, somehow she couldn't bring herself to talk about it. Not yet. Hearing Vaughn confirm the truth would give it a validity that she wouldn't be able to ignore, and she couldn't afford to break down right now.

"Vaughn, look." She pointed at his sleeve, visible through his ripped jacket. "You're bleeding through your shirt. It looks bad."

She reached for him, but he drew back. "I'm fine."

"Don't be a baby." She gently unbuttoned his cuff and rolled it back, revealing a bloody gash on his forearm. "It's deep. This will probably need stitches."

"That's your prognosis, Doctor Bristow?" He looked amused, but hissed as she probed the skin above the cut.

"My husband is in medicine, so I've picked up some basic knowledge. You really should go to a hospital."

"Later. There's a CIA team on the way. I need to be here until they arrive. I can't leave you alone."

She could see by his resolute expression that he meant it. He would stay here, even if that meant bleeding to death. Stupid man, Sydney thought. He had so little concern for his own welfare. At the same time, though, she couldn't help but admire his dedication, and appreciate that he wouldn't leave her without protection.

"Then maybe I can patch you up a little." She fished around in her purse until she found a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls and gauze. "Now give me your arm and try not to move."

Vaughn obeyed. "Do you have an entire pharmacy in that bag?"

"I like to be prepared," she said with a smile.

Vaughn didn't make a sound as she dabbed the cut clean, but his muscles tensed in pain. She wrapped his arm in gauze and tied it in place. Already the white cloth was staining red, but she could do nothing else for him. She packed up her purse as Vaughn examined her handiwork.

"You have a gentle touch. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'm sorry about all this, Sydney. It's my job to protect you, and I take it very seriously. I want you to know that, despite the debacle this night has become."

"I know. Thank you."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Sydney saw something there that transcended simple gratitude. It was how Danny looked at her sometimes, in a way that made her feel giddy and warm, and told her so much more than words. At the same time, though, Vaughn's gaze conveyed a terrible sadness. The look unnerved her, but she couldn't turn away. Finally, he lowered his eyes, and the moment passed.

Sydney cleared her throat. "I should get back. I told Danny I was going to the bathroom, and that was ten or fifteen minutes ago."

"Go. I'll keep watch in case Derevko shows."

"She won't be back tonight."

"You sound so confident of that."

"I don't know why, but I am," she said as she stood and wiped the alley's grime off her pants. It wouldn't do to have Danny notice that.

Sydney gave him a small smile before going to the back door and trying the knob. It was unlocked, thankfully, so she gave Vaughn one last look before slipping inside and finding herself in the kitchen. She made it halfway through the maze of metal tables and stoves before someone stopped her. A teenage boy with a bad complexion yelled at her from a dishwashing sink.

"Hey, what are you doing back here?"

Sydney gave him her best impression of a deer in headlights. "I was trying to find the bathroom. I got lost."

The boy pointed. "Through that door and to your left."

"Thank you."

Once in the bathroom, she picked up her teddy bear from the floor -- she must have dropped him in her haste to find Vaughn -- and stuffed him in her purse. After a quick check of her hair and makeup, she headed back to the dining room. Danny saw her and smiled.

"Took you long enough. I was about to call out the guard."

Sydney sat down. "Don't exaggerate. You know girls always take a long time in the bathroom. Don't we have our food yet?"

"The waiter brought it out, but I asked him to hold it in the kitchen until you came back. I figured you wouldn't appreciate cold eggplant."

"Thanks," Sydney said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "That was really thoughtful."

"It's my job to take care of you."

She laughed lightly. "I'm quite a handful. Are you sure you're up to it?"

"You know, I don't know. I might need a trial period, just to be sure."

She swatted at him, and they both laughed. The waiter returned with their food then. Danny chatted through the meal, and Sydney gave responses at the appropriate intervals, but her attention drifted. She wanted to break in and tell Danny everything, an urge so strong it was almost physical. She knew, though, that doing so would foolishly put him in danger.

So she couldn't breathe a word to her husband, or her friends, about what her life had become. She felt angry with her father, who had lied about himself and her mother for Sydney's entire life. And now Irina Derevko had come with more secrets to further deepen the chasm of deceit between Sydney and her loved ones. Irina had killed a CIA agent and almost killed Vaughn, and she wanted Sydney to go with her. What scared Sydney was that a small part of her found the offer tempting -- an opportunity to know the mother she had thought was dead, and to experience a life of excitement and danger.

But if she said no, how far would Irina go to change her mind? Would she abduct her, torment her, hurt Danny or her friends?

All through dinner Sydney smiled until her cheekbones ached, but underneath, she felt terribly alone.

#

Sydney woke up around noon the next day and started to panic about missing classes before she remembered it was Saturday. She had the bed to herself. Danny had probably been awake for hours. She burrowed under the sheets and lay there for several minutes, wondering whether she could simply stay there all day. She knew hiding from the world wasn't the answer, though, so eventually she crawled out, got dressed and wandered into the kitchen for breakfast.

"She emerges! She lives!"

Sydney stuck out her tongue at Danny, right before he pinned her against the kitchen counter. She squealed and made half-hearted efforts to get away, forcing Danny to press closer.

"Stick out your tongue again," he said, "and I'll have to catch it."

So of course she did, and giggled as he tried to kiss her. She ducked her head at the last second, and his lips met with her eyebrow. He kissed it passionately.

"Ugh, that's messy," Sydney said, wiping her face with her sleeve. "Good morning to you, too."

"Good afternoon, more like."

"Whatever. It's Saturday. I don't care."

Danny pulled back enough for Sydney to finish fixing herself a bowl of cereal. Danny refilled his coffee mug, and they both sat at the table.

As she chowed down on Cheerios, she scanned the newspaper, looking for reports on a disturbance at the restaurant last night -- or worse, a murder -- but to her relief, she found nothing. She supposed the CIA had a way of covering up such things.

As she turned to the comics, she became aware that Danny was watching her intently, his eyes fixed on her as though she were a specimen on a laboratory table, but he spoke not a word. She tried to ignore it, though maintaining her calm facade was exhausting. Her mind darted in all directions, through all the things she was hiding from her husband. Several minutes passed, and still his eyes never wavered.

"All right," she said, giving up. "What's wrong?"

"Actually, I'm worried that there's something wrong with you. These past few days you've been ... distant. Preoccupied. I can't help but think there's something you're not telling me."

"We always tell each other everything."

"That's not an answer."

She said lightly, "Danny, there's no reason for the third degree. Everything is fine." Hoping to satisfy him, she added, "It's been a long week is all."

He thought about that, then shook his head. "Syd, I know you. I'm not buying it."

"What do I have to say to convince you, then?"

"How about the truth?"

She threw down her spoon. "Look --"

A doorbell interrupted them. Danny gave Sydney a look that clearly said they weren't through with this, then got up to answer the door. She finished slurping up milk from her bowl as she heard footsteps approaching. Two sets of them. Danny rounded the corner, followed by someone Sydney hadn't expected -- and didn't want to see at all.

Jack stopped in the kitchen doorway and fixed his daughter with his trademark coolness, an attitude that meant business.

"Sydney, we need to talk."

##

Feedback please?


	5. chapter 5

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:**Hi, everyone. So you've made it as far as chapter 5. Bless you. I hope you're enjoying reading my story as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank you to Neptune, who had many great suggestions on how to improve this chapter. 

I love reading your feedback. Thank you to everyone who has written. I've noticed that quite a bit of the feedback focuses on how I'm going to manage a Sydney/Vaughn plotline when Sydney is married. Not easily, I tell you. These things take time to develop, but Syd and Vaughn's big moment is coming. I promise! 

## 

The sun had come out strong that day, and it felt like early spring. Clouds drifted on a light breeze, and Sydney shed her coat as she and her father walked down the neighborhood street. Children played in their yards, and one of the neighbors was raking leaves. Sydney waved at him as they passed.

The balmy weather had no affect on Jack, though, who was as serious and businesslike as ever. Sydney had thought out plenty of spiteful things to say to him, about how he had deliberately kept information from her about Irina, but now she couldn't bring herself to vocalize any of it. Her father's authoritative manner made her hold back. Despite the progress they had made toward healing their relationship, he often had that affect on her.

After they had walked a block or so, Jack finally spoke --quietly, to keep their conversation from carrying. "I don't have much time. I have a plane to catch in an hour."

"A CIA mission?"

"Something like that. Sydney, I couldn't help but notice that when Danny answered the door, he looked upset."

She shifted uncomfortably. "We were talking, but it was on the verge of getting ugly. I think we would have had a fight if you hadn't interrupted us." She looked up at him. "He's not stupid, Dad. He knows something is going on that I'm not telling him."

"You can't say anything. You know that."

"Yes, so everyone keeps telling me. But _why_? Danny and I _never_ fight. We tell each other everything. I'm no good at keeping secrets from him."

"You think it would help matters to tell Danny that you're involved with the CIA and that there is a former Russian spy on your tail? Would you compromise the cover of others -- such as myself and Agent Vaughn? How much would you tell him, Sydney?"

"More than you told me," she snapped, and instantly regretted it. But why should she? Her father deserved to know how she felt about his omissions of truth.

He stopped walking and looked at her, but he squinted a little in the midday sun. "I told you everything you needed to know."

"You know that's not true," she said, her words clipped and angry. "But don't worry. _Mom_ filled in the gaps for me."

His jaw tightened. "I see."

"You don't look surprised."

"I read Agent Vaughn's report, about your contact with Derevko. It's why I'm here. I suspected she would tell you. Vaughn also informed me privately that when he pressed you for details, you immediately changed the subject. Under the circumstances, he thought it better to let you do so. I don't have that luxury."

Sydney could hardly believe the calmness with which he spoke, like he was chatting about the weather. Maybe for him this sort of situation was just another day at the office. He lied as a matter of habit, but she couldn't handle the tangle of deceit. At this moment, she could hardly endure standing so close to him. She regarded him with cold determination.

"What passed between Irina and me is none of your business."

"It most certainly is."

"Maybe I don't _want _to talk to you about it. Have you thought about that?"

She started to walk away, but Jack grabbed her arm. Sydney bit back a cry of pain.

"You will tell me, Sydney, and you will do so now. The security and welfare of this nation might depend on it."

"Why should I? When you didn't tell me that the woman who was stalking me happened to be my mother? That she was _alive_ all these years?" She was shaking now with rage and yanked her arm from his grip. "You should have told me. Instead you left me clueless, and I ended up trapped in a bathroom and completely off my guard, which is probably exactly what she wanted."

It felt good to get that out, like the lifting of an unbearable weight. She breathed deep a few times to get herself under control and waited for her father's response, half-fearing what he would say. She was both surprised and gratified to see that he looked regretful.

"If I hurt you, I'm sorry," he said. "I only wanted to protect you. From all of this. I only found out within the last year myself that Derevko was alive."

"You betrayed the trust I put in you. Betrayed _me_."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Sydney didn't know what to say, so she turned and walked across the street, and her father followed. They entered a park, lush in the summertime but now barren and brown. A set of swings swayed empty in the wind, and a lone bird chirped in the branches above the bench where they sat down. Sydney suddenly felt cold and pulled on her coat. She found her voice then, and the steadiness of it surprised her.

"She threatened me at first, to stop me from calling out. She told me she had hurt Vaughn in some way and that he wouldn't help me. Then she told me she was my mother. I didn't believe her, so she gave me a toy I had had as a child. She had kept it all these years."

"You believed her then?"

She nodded. "Yes, but no. Laura Bristow was my mother, not Irina Derevko. I got angry with her."

"What happened next?"

"She said she didn't have time to argue with me, and she left."

"Nothing else?" Jack looked at her intently.

She hesitated, hearing Irina's words in her mind. _In a few days time, I will be leaving Los Angeles, and I want you to come with me._ She knew she should tell her father, but she still hurt and didn't trust him as much as she otherwise might have.

"There was nothing else. After that, I went looking for Vaughn."

He nodded and reached under his coat, pulling out a small metallic tube. He handed it to Sydney.

"What's this?" She pulled off the top. "Lipstick?"

"It's a homing device. Keep it with you at all times, and the CIA can track you anywhere. It also has a panic button of sorts. If you twist the bottom, it sends out a signal. It's a way of alerting us if you're in trouble."

"You mean if Irina shows up again," Sydney prompted, and he nodded. She examined the device. "A homing beacon in a lipstick. Who would have thought."

As she slipped it into her coat pocket, Jack stood, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He said, "I have to go. I'm due at the airport soon. I'll be gone for only a couple of days, and we will talk again when I return."

She nodded, and he walked away. Sydney watched as he grew smaller, then turned a corner and vanished. She knew she should go home, but she couldn't bring herself to move. The peace she felt here in this park would vanish all too quickly once she left. So she closed her eyes, listened to the bird chirp above her, and sat there for a long time.

#

The monitor depicted a simple map, with a red dot marking Sydney's location. As she moved, the map would shift, keeping her dot in the center of the screen. But she hadn't moved in 10 minutes. Vaughn wondered, as he studied the screen, why she hadn't gone home yet.

"She's still sitting there, huh?" Weiss said as he leaned over Vaughn's shoulder. "Gee this is interesting. It's exactly how I wanted to spend my afternoon. Stuck in a cold, cramped CIA van watching a dot on a screen."

"At least we have the van now. It's an improvement."

"An improvement would be some coffee and doughnuts to go with it."

Before Vaughn could answer, his cell phone rang. The caller ID didn't say who it was, but Vaughn already knew before he pressed the receive button. The reception was weak and crackling.

"Vaughn here."

"It's Jack. Is the device working?"

"No problems so far."

"I'm on my way to the airport now. I'll check in when I reach Puerto Rico. Keep her safe."

"We will."

Vaughn hung up and glanced at Weiss. "He's worried about his daughter."

"Of course he is. His crazy homicidal ex-wife is after her. Derevko's already killed one agent and almost got you too. I'd be worried, if she were my daughter." He pointed at the screen. "She's moving."

True enough, the map was sliding slowly to the left as Sydney walked back toward her house. They settled in to watch. There was no point in moving the van to follow her -- not when she was going only a few blocks.

"So where is SD-6 sending Bristow this time?" Weiss asked as he kicked his feet up on a console.

"Puerto Rico."

"Hmm, nice. Does Sydney know, about the double-agent thing?"

"Not unless Jack told her, and I doubt he'd do that."

"Well that's about the only thing she doesn't know, after last night. Speaking of, how's your arm?"

"It's fine. The concussion was worse." He brushed his fingers over his bandaged forearm. It stung, but only enough to cause slight discomfort. "This took a few stitches, but the doctor said I avoided infection. I probably have Sydney to thank for that. The doctor was impressed at how well she treated the cut."

He half-smiled as he remembered Sydney's stubborn insistence that she clean him up, and how ridiculously overstuffed her purse was. Lucky for him that she had had all the right medical supplies, and that she kept her cool after all that had happened. Vaughn was certain had their positions been reversed, he wouldn't have been so calm.

Weiss stared at him hard, then shook his head soberly. "Here we go again."

"What?"

"That look you just got. That's a bad, bad sign."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Uh-uh, buddy. Playing dumb doesn't work with me. We've known each other a long time, and I recognize the signs when you're falling for a pretty girl. I'm telling you now that this one is a bad idea."

"Who?" Vaughn said, baffled. Then it hit him what Weiss must be thinking, and he laughed out loud. "You mean Sydney?"

"She's _married_, you know. That means off-limits. Besides, her father would probably disembowel you if anything happened between you two."

"That's ... gross, Weiss. And no need to worry. I'm not falling for Sydney."

"You can't fool me."

"I'm not," Vaughn said, a little too harshly. He was starting to get irritated with this whole conversation. "If I were interested in her, would I be going out on a date tonight?"

Weiss raised his eyebrows. "A date, really? With who?"

"A nurse at the hospital," he said, grinning. "She took my blood pressure."

"You met her just last night? That's fast work. Does she have a friend?"

"Not that I know of."

"Too bad. I guess that means I'm drinking alone tonight."

"Sorry, buddy."

"I'll survive. Hey, look," Weiss said, nodding toward the screen. "Stop the presses. She's made it home." He sighed dramatically. "The excitement never ends in the life of a CIA agent. What time does the next shift get here?"

"In an hour, and I could do with a little less excitement myself." Vaughn brushed his fingertips over the screen. "I wish we knew what Derevko wanted with her."

"I wish Derevko would show so we could grab her and get out of here. Then we could drop her in the middle of headquarters and let her fend for herself against a bunch of pissed-off agents with guns."

Vaughn didn't answer. He simply stared at the red dot, lost in thought about all that the past few days had brought into his life.

#

Danny was hanging colorful lights above the garage when Sydney walked up the driveway. He looked down at her from his perch atop his ladder but didn't speak. Neither did Sydney. She went inside and started the usual weekend household chores.

Danny found her much later, on her hands and knees, scrubbing fiercely at the bathtub.

"We should put up the Christmas tree tomorrow," he said.

"Sure."

He nodded, looked like he was about to say something more, then left. Sydney sighed and went back to taking out her frustrations on the soap scum.

She had finished on the tub and had moved onto the toilet when the phone rang. For one paralyzing moment, she thought it might be Vaughn, or maybe even her mother. Irina had said they would talk again soon. But not yet, Sydney thought. I'm not ready yet. She wondered whether she ever would be.

"Hello?" Danny said, and Sydney strained to hear. "Speaking ... yeah... no, no I don't mind. ... I'll be there as soon as I can. ... No problem. Bye."

He came into the bathroom. "That was the hospital. They've had a lot of people call in sick today and need me to come in. I told them OK."

So it had been a normal call. Sydney inwardly sighed in relief, but outside, she did her best to look perturbed. "On a Saturday? But it's your day off."

"Sick people don't take off weekends, Syd."

"I know, I know. How long do they want you?"

"Only a few hours. I should be home for dinner."

"Don't let them work you too hard."

He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and not long after, Sydney heard his car pulling out of the driveway.

Now that she had the house to herself and could relax for a while, she put away her cleaning supplies and booted up the computer. She hadn't emptied her e-mail box all day, and it was probably overrun with spam. As she went down the list of new messages, she clicked delete on almost every one. Some promised sex, others cheap airfare, and they had wild names in the sender box, like "naked Britney" and "Big Boy."

She marked the delete box on the last message and was about to trash them all when she stopped. The final message listed the sender as "tudy1800." Tudy. The name of her stuffed bear -- the one Irina had given to her the previous night. For several seconds, Sydney considered dumping that message, too, but the mouse moved almost of its own volition and opened the file.

It was an advertisement for debt relief. Sydney laughed at herself for seeing hints of conspiracy where there were none and moved her clicker over the delete button, but again she hesitated. She noticed something strange about the advertisement's wording.

"Find debt relief now!" it said in big letters. Then, in smaller type, it continued: "Creditors draining your account? Not enough money for FOOD and rent? Are you getting dragged into COURT? You're not ALONE! And there is a way out!"

Then it listed some Web page link, but that's not what interested Sydney. The words in all capital letters seemed too strange to be coincidental. "FOOD. COURT. ALONE." My God it _was_ a message from her.

Irina Derevko wanted to meet her at the food court, undoubtedly the one at the mall, considering that's where Sydney had spotted her before. And Irina wanted her to come alone. Sydney knew what that meant: losing her CIA protectors. Otherwise, Irina probably wouldn't show. But when? The message included no time.

Sydney shook herself. Was she really considering this? Irina Derevko was the bad guy, a murderer and thief who had made Sydney's life hell for the past week. And yet, she was her mother, the woman whom Sydney had spent years wishing she could have had only one more day with. Now the chance lay before her on a silver platter. A chance to know her mother. If she didn't go, she would regret it forever.

Besides, meeting with her didn't necessarily mean Sydney would leave Los Angeles with her. Maybe Irina had something important to tell her, but Sydney had been too distraught at their first meeting to understand it.

Without consciously realizing it, Sydney decided she would go. But she still had to figure out when. The answer wasn't in the message itself, so she looked to the sender name and grinned in triumph. "Tudy1800," it said. The 1800 was military time, meaning 6 p.m.

The clock above the computer said 5 p.m., so she had an hour to get there. Not much time, especially considering she had to figure out how to lose her government tails, but at least Danny shouldn't be home before then with his nagging questions. She said a silent thanks for small blessings and went about making her preparations.

##

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	6. chapter 6

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:**This is the part where I offer a huge apology to all of you who have been faithfully reading this story. I'm sorry about the weeks-long delay in posting this chapter. My only excuse is that the real world completely took over my free time for a while. However, I'm back to writing every day and hopefully will be posting weekly through the end of the story. 

## 

Vaughn had a decent dating record. Over the years, he had classified more first dates as successes than not, a success being a woman he would ask out a second time. Nurse Nancy from the hospital had started out promising, but while sitting across from her -- much too nauseous to touch his food -- Vaughn had to admit she had taken an unrecoverable dive into the negative column.

As soon as he and Weiss had handed the van and surveillance of Sydney to the next set of agents, he had picked up Nancy for an early dinner, before the start of her night shift. He had taken her to a nice Greek restaurant, and after the initial awkward silence, they seemed to be getting on fine. Then she started telling stories about the ER, and no matter how many times Vaughn changed the subject, she always came back to another gruesome tale of exploding internal organs or car accident victims. At that point, Vaughn admitted defeat -- he would not ask her out again -- and simply tried to get through the evening.

To make matters worse, his thoughts kept wandering to another woman. To Sydney Hecht. Weiss had accused him of falling for her, but that simply wasn't true. Sure, she was attractive, smart and interesting. Her strength of character had earned his admiration and respect, but it didn't go beyond that. His regard for her was purely professional. Right?

Right?

Meanwhile, Nancy sat across the table from him, tossing her curly hair, adjusting her blouse to give him a good view of her cleavage, and chatting about ER operations with her mouth full.

"So then," she said between bites of potato, "the guy threw up all over me. I mean, right down my white shirt. There were these bits of hot dog and stuff that were sticking to me, and --"

Vaughn's cell phone rang. He silently thanked whoever was calling and thumbed the talk button. "Hello?"

"Agent Vaughn, this is Agent Roger Miller calling in to report."

"Just a minute," he said. Vaughn had left Miller and another agent in the van with instructions to contact him every hour, so Vaughn wasn't worried. Mostly, he was thankful for the break from Nancy, whom he looked to politely. "It's a call from work that I need to take in private. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," she said, and scarfed more potatoes into her mouth. "Take your time."

"I'll be right back." He went to the back of the restaurant, by the restrooms and pay phones. "What do you have to report?"

"Only that Mrs. Hecht left her house about 15 minutes ago, by car."

"Was she alone?"

"Yes. We followed, but we lost sight of her about three miles from her house."

"You what?" Vaughn sputtered, trying to keep his voice low. "You lost her? What about the tracking device?"

"We used it to catch up with her, sir," Miller said quickly. "Her car was out of our sight for only about three minutes. We tracked her to an apartment. Her vehicle was parked out front."

"Did you run a check on the apartment occupant?"

"We did. It's leased to a Francine Calfo."

"Francie is her best friend. Sydney is still there?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Call me when she leaves. And don't, under any circumstances, let her out of your sight again."

Vaughn hung up, took a deep breath and smiled at Nancy, who was watching him from across the restaurant. "Once more into the breach," he muttered, and headed back to the table.

#

When Sydney reached the entrance to the mall, she almost turned right back around to leave. What had possessed her to come here, anyway, and alone no less? It defied all logic, but in her heart, she knew why. It had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with an inborn yearning of every human being: She wanted her mother back. Sydney understood that, as she understood that Irina was probably counting on such a reaction to draw her here.

She only hoped she wasn't walking into a trap. She felt out of depth here and desperately wanted to know Vaughn was close by to keep her safe. If she had dared to bring the CIA into this, though, Irina would vanish before a word could be spoken. This was the only way.

From her purse, she pulled out the one thing that might make this risk worthwhile: a small tape recorder, the type that reporters used. Will had left it at the house and had never bothered to take it back, so it had collected dust on the top of the refrigerator for months -- at least until Sydney had found it not a half-hour before. She punched the record button and set back in her purse.

Then with a deep breath, she pushed open the doors and entered the food court. It was crowded, as she had expected on a weekend before Christmas, but she had no trouble spotting Irina, who was watching her from the same table Sydney had seen her at before. No turning back now, she thought.

Irina smiled, almost affectionately, as Sydney slid into the seat across from her. She had her hair pulled into a loose ponytail, revealing the strong jaw line that Sydney knew she herself also had. Looking at them now, no one could deny their blood ties.

"Thank you for coming," Irina said softly. She had the same quiet intensity as the night before but had muted the awful edge of danger in her manner, for which Sydney was thankful.

"Weren't you afraid I wouldn't figure out your message?"

"No. I was more concerned that you wouldn't lose your CIA watchdogs, but if they were here, I would be in custody by now. How did you do it?"

"I called my friend Francie to ask if I could switch cars with her, then made enough turns that I lost the agents long enough to meet Francie outside her building and get back on the road."

She remembered her friend's confused look as she had handed over her keys. Francie had tried to ask questions, but Sydney had cut her off with a promise to explain later. She only hoped to come up with a suitable reason why her own car hadn't been good enough.

Irina leaned forward with intense interest. "And the homing device?"

"How do you know about that?"

"There's always a homing device."

Sydney shifted uncomfortably -- she didn't know whether to take Irina at her word on that or whether she had been watching when Jack had given Sydney the tracker.

She said, "I dropped it as I was getting into Francie's car. As I drove away, I saw Francie pick it up and take it inside with her."

Irina smiled proudly. "Very good work, Sydney. I'm impressed."

"I don't need your praise. I need to know why you asked me here."

"You know why. I want you to come with me when I leave Los Angeles."

Sydney shook her head. "I'm a school teacher. Not a spy. I deal with students and essays, not guns and espionage."

"That's because you've never tried. Haven't you ever been curious in the least what it would be like to live a more exciting life?"

"Of course, but --"

"You have talent, and good instincts that cannot be learned. You either have them, or you don't. It's in your blood, Sydney. You lost those agents with efficiency I rarely see in those with years of experience in such matters."

"I'm married. I have friends here, and a life."

"And no mother."

Sydney got angry at that. "How dare you use that against me. I have no mother because of what _you_ did, and when you leave again, that will be your fault, too."

Irina gave her a sad look and said, "I'm sorry, Sydney. I know an apology doesn't make up for the years we have lost, but we can have a future. Give me a chance to earn your trust."

"Trust?" Sydney scoffed. "Just last night you trapped me in a bathroom, killed one CIA agent and almost killed another. And you talk to me about trust?"

Sydney expected Irina to react with anger, but instead she merely smiled with a certainty that gave Sydney goosebumps.

"You're here," Irina said, "which means you want to give me a chance. You want an explanation for why I killed that agent? He spotted me, and I had to make a quick decision before he had the opportunity to contact others. My line of work is like that. Sometimes one's actions involve life or death."

"You're a murderer. Why should I trust you?"

"Because I have not lied to you yet, Sydney. You want answers? Ask any question you like, and you will have your answers. And unlike some people, I will be truthful."

Like my father, Sydney thought, and pushed the thought aside. That was the reaction Irina wanted, but Sydney wouldn't let this woman pull her strings. She licked her dry lips and hoped the tape recorder was working properly.

"What's your real purpose in Los Angeles?"

Irina sat stone still for a moment -- in surprise, Sydney thought -- then pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, but her eyes never wavered from Sydney's. "There is no easy answer to that."

"I'll take a hard answer, then."

Irina's mouth twitched in a smile and she nodded once. "I see I've worked myself into a corner. Very well. The answer is this: I was here to steal something from the CIA. Something valuable."

"Steal what?"

"A box. A very old box."

"I don't understand," Sydney said. "All of this -- your captivity and the manhunt, death and everything that has turned my life upside down -- is about a box?"

"That box is the key to something much larger. Something that could change the power structure of the world as we know it. This is an exciting time to be alive, Sydney, and I can make you part of it, bring you into the inner circle." She reached one hand across the table, palm up. "Just take my hand, and I will show you things you've only dreamed of."

Sydney felt her muscles contracting of their own volition, raising her hand from her lap and above the table. Then she paused. Her mother's offer was the excitement Sydney felt she had been waiting for her entire life, and yet ... was it? Irina was one of the bad guys, and if Sydney went with her, the guilt would sink her spirit.

"I can't," she said finally. "Not like this."

With an unreadable expression, Irina withdrew her hand, and the offer. Sydney felt like crying, but instead she stood and pulled her purse strap over her shoulder.

"I have to go."

"I understand."

She turned to go.

"Sydney."

She stopped but didn't look back.

"Take care of yourself," Irina said. "And I want you to know that no matter what has happened between us, I have always loved you. Don't ever doubt that."

Sydney wanted so much to turn around, change her mind and just go with her mother, but what she wanted could never be. The cruelty of it caused tears to run down her cheeks, but she wouldn't let Irina see. No never that. Instead, with sight blurred, she walked away and farther into the mall.

Finally, she stopped to pull a tissue from her purse and to shut off the tape recorder. She didn't feel like going back to Francie's yet, so she kept walking. Irina might be following her, but she didn't really care. So much anger and confusion built up inside her that she felt little else.

She walked faster, faster, felt like sprinting down the halls and bowling over whoever got in her way. She needed to scream. She needed to spill out her frustrations, but she had no one to listen. Danny, Francie and Will couldn't be brought into it, and her father was gone on some mission. But she needed to let these emotions out before she burst.

She pulled out her CIA phone and dialed the only person who could help her.

"Agent Vaughn here."

Sydney tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Hello?" Vaughn asked. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Vaughn, it's me," she said finally.

"Sydney?" he said, sounding alarmed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Vaughn, would you --" She stopped. Maybe asking him this wasn't right. Maybe she should suppress her selfish need to talk, apologize and hang up.

"Sydney, what's going on?"

She took a slow breath and tried again. "Would you meet me at the warehouse? I can tell you what's going on then."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

At those words, tension left her in waves.

"Thank you," she said, and hung up.

She went out an exit far from the food court, just in case Irina was still waiting for her to change her mind and come back, and hurried to Francie's car.

##

Feedback makes me a happy writer. Go on ... click the button. It's right there ...


	7. chapter 7

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** For those who have been clammering for the S/V stuff, this is where the story starts to get shippy. Hello, love Triangle. The wait for the next chapter should only be a few days, as it's almost done. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this installment. 

## 

Sydney arrived first and picked her way through the dark warehouse with less fear than she had only a week before. That surprised her, but then again, she had been through much since she last came here. The thought of a collapsing ceiling didn't compare with becoming embroiled in CIA spy games.

She passed through the gate in the chain-link fence and settled in on a crate. She didn't have to wait long before hearing footsteps on the cement floor. The shadowy figure at the gate also had no flashlight, but Sydney still recognized Vaughn from his tall, thin frame.

As he came closer, she saw that he had changed out his suit -- the only attire she had seen him in until now --and was wearing faded jeans, a button-down shirt and a black leather jacket. She caught herself admiring and quickly looked away, happy that the darkness hid her guilty blush.

"Hi," he said as he sat beside her. From his reserved manner, it seemed he wasn't going to grill her for details until she was ready to talk, and Sydney appreciated that.

"Hi. Thanks for coming," she said. "I hope I didn't pull you away from anything."

"Actually, I was on a dinner date."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea --"

"It's all right," he said. "Honestly, I was happy to have an excuse to leave."

Sydney smirked. "It was going that well, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I told her I had an urgent call from the office and had to go. I offered to take her home, but she wanted to finish her dinner. So I left her some cab money."

"She wasn't mad?"

"Surprisingly, no."

He gave her a warm smile, and she smiled back but couldn't think of the right words to say. A long pause fell between them, as Sydney gripped the crate below her in both hands, and Vaughn waited patiently for her to speak. He was being so good to her, and she knew she didn't deserve it.

Finally she said, "I have a confession to make, and you're not going to like it."

"Try me."

"I wasn't at Francie's tonight." She licked her dry lips and steeled herself for a tirade.

"You what?" Vaughn asked, incredulous. "But the homing device your father gave you tracked you to her apartment. Your car was there."

"I traded cars with Francie and arranged for the device to be left there," she said quietly.

Vaughn shot to his feet and loomed over her. "Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you have any idea? What if Derevko had found you? She could have done anything to you and we would have never known."

Sydney winced. She was beginning to realize how stupid she had been, but she hadn't called Vaughn for a lecture. Better to act contrite now and get them past this.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"So where were you?"

Sydney prepared herself for a second onslaught and said, "With Irina Derevko."

Vaughn ran one hand through his hair and set another on his hip. He started pacing in front of her in agitation. "I thought you were smarter than that, Sydney. Why would you give her an opportunity like that?"

"She wouldn't have hurt me," she protested. "We were in a public place."

"Do you think that matters to her?"

Sydney was getting fed up with this. She rose to her feet and planted herself directly in Vaughn's path, to stop his pacing and command his full attention.

"She is my _mother_, Vaughn. I thought she was dead for most of my life, but suddenly she reappeared and wanted to meet with me. What would you have done?"

Vaughn opened his mouth for rebuttal, then stopped, lowered his eyes and nodded. They returned to their seats, and Vaughn ran his hand through his hair again. The gesture seemed to be his way of expressing anxiety. Sydney couldn't help but think that his hair would probably fall flat if he didn't constantly run his fingers through it.

Her amusement faded, though, when she saw his troubled expression. When he spoke, his voice had calmed considerably. "Your father feared that Derevko had told you about your connection to her."

"You knew, too, didn't you? And you chose not to tell me."

"I was following Jack's lead, and he obviously didn't want you to know. I didn't agree with that choice but considering your close relation, I thought he would know best."

"I forgive you. In this, I blame my father."

Vaughn glanced sidelong at her and said, in a quiet, serious way, "My father was a CIA agent."

Sydney looked up at him, interested in where this was going. He gave her a sad smile.

"He was killed in the line of duty when I was eight. I guess part of why I went into the CIA was because of him. If I suddenly learned that it all wasn't true, that he had faked his death, was working for the other side and wanted to make contact with me -- I don't know what I would do. Probably the same as you."

Those words touched Sydney deeply. They meant that someone understood and sympathized with her predicament, that she wasn't an awful person for giving her mother a chance. It lifted a little of the guilt from her heart.

"Sydney, I can't blame you for what you did. Just, please, don't risk it again. She may be your mother, but the only person Irina Derevko is interesting in serving is herself. I wouldn't be able to stand it if she did something to you."

"I promise I'll be more careful," she said.

Feeling more at peace than she had in days, she reached into her purse for the tiny audio tape and held it out to Vaughn on her palm.

"What's this?" he asked, taking it.

"It's a recording of my conversation with Irina. There's probably nothing there you don't already know, but just in case, I want you to have it."

"Thank you." He put it in his jacket pocket. "Sydney, why did you ask me here tonight? I don't mean to push, but I don't think it was to get lectured and give me a tape."

She shook her head and said softly, "No, it wasn't."

"Then why?"

"Because I needed someone to talk to. I feel like I've lived lifetimes since finding out about my mother, and that was just last night. I know I can't trust her, but I can't trust Dad, either. He lied to me about her, and about his job, for years. As for Danny, he can never know any of this." She paused as a realization hit her. "I don't think I trust anyone right now. Except you."

He slid closer and hesitantly laid his hand over hers, resting on the crate. The gesture was shy, like he feared she would pull away at the slightest touch. On the contrary, it felt warm and comforting. When she didn't retreat, he grew bolder and weaved his fingers in with hers.

"Sydney, I know things look bad right now, but you can handle it."

"What if I can't?" she asked, tears welling up.

"You can. And you will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you are your father's daughter. You're stronger than you know." He smiled and squeezed her fingers. "And if it gets to be too much, you can call me, and I will _always_ come. That's a promise."

A tear trailed down her cheek, and Vaughn reached up with his free hand to brush it aside. She turned away, embarrassed by her emotional display.

"You're a good friend, Vaughn. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A loud buzzing noise startled them both, and it took Sydney a moment to realize that it was her cell phone --the one not associated with the CIA. She reclaimed her hand and dug into her purse.

"Hello?"

"Sydney, are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Danny."

Upon hearing her husband's name, Vaughn gave her a strange look and walked a few paces away. If she didn't know better, she would have thought his expression was one of jealousy, but that was crazy, and she didn't have the leisure to think about it now, anyway.

"Where are you?" Danny asked.

"I'm, um, at the grocery store."

"Syd, what is going on? There is a message from Francie on the machine. She says she's worried about you and wants to know when she can have her car back. What the hell does that mean?"

Oh, damn, Sydney thought. Caught in the act. Now she had to create a plausible story for both Francie and Danny, but at this moment, she was coming up with nothing.

"Hon, the reception isn't good in here. I'll be home soon. Can we talk about it then?"

"Yeah, sure," he said curtly, and Sydney winced.

"All right, I'll talk to you soon."

"Right. Bye."

The connection clicked off, and as Sydney turned off her phone, she noted that this was the first time Danny had ended a conversation without saying he loved her.

She looked up at Vaughn, who was leaning against the fence near the gate. "I have to go."

"I know."

She picked up her things and stopped next to him on her way out. This time, she squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

He said nothing as she let go and walked away.

#

She gave Francie a story she had cooked up on the drive back to the apartment. Francie seemed to buy it and switched their keys back, also returning the lipstick-disguised tracker that Sydney had dropped earlier that evening. Sydney didn't bother to act covert this time, even though those CIA agents probably still were staked out nearby, because Vaughn would have informed them of her ruse by now.

"Take care," Sydney said as she hugged her best friend. "Want to do lunch next week?"

"Sure. Oh, and Syd, I think I should warn you that Danny didn't sound too happy when he called here earlier looking for you."

Sydney sighed. "I know. Thanks."

Danny turned off the television when she came in, and Sydney joined him in the living room. She pulled up a chair. He watched her sullenly with arms folded from across the coffee table.

"Where are the groceries?" he asked.

"I wasn't at the grocery store."

"So you lied to me."

She looked down at her hands, wringing each other in her lap. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. An apology is not good enough. What is going on? You've gotten so distant recently. We haven't had sex in more than a week. And this is the second time this week that you've vanished for more than an hour without so much as telling anyone where you were going. Now there's this thing with borrowing Francie's car."

"What are you implying, Danny?"

He took a deep breath. Sydney recognized it as his way of gathering courage to broach a difficult subject. "Are you cheating on me?"

She almost laughed and wondered whether she had heard him right. "Am I what?"

"Are you having an affair, Sydney? Yes, or no."

She had never considered that Danny would think such a thing, but the conclusion made sense after all her sneaking around. At least in answering this, she didn't have to lie.

She walked around the coffee table, sat next to him and took his hands in hers. She looked him straight in the eyes and said, "The answer is no. Danny, I have never cheated on you. I love you."

She expected a release of tension, but none came.

"Then explain to me what is going on," he said. "And no avoiding the issue this time. I want the truth."

"It's a long story."

"I have nowhere else to be."

Sydney took a moment to collect herself, then said, "It actually has to do with work. See, there's this administrator at the school who is running roughshod over the staff. The faculty knows something has to be done, but we haven't decided what, and we don't want to rush into a bad decision. So we've been meeting in secret to discuss the matter. I borrowed Francie's car because I didn't want anyone to recognize mine outside the house where we were meeting."

"That's all?" he asked, his voice hopeful for the first time.

"That's it. I promise. But I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, so please keep it quiet."

Finally, the anger left his eyes, and he looked as guilty as Sydney felt. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

She brushed her fingers down his cheek. "It's all right, baby."

He leaned in to kiss her soundly, and his hands found their way into her hair. Just when Sydney was beginning to think they should move to the bedroom, he pulled back and gave her such a tender look that she could hardly look back.

"I love you, Sydney. When I thought there was something you weren't telling me -- that maybe you were doing things behind my back -- it was driving me crazy."

She held up her left hand to display her ring. "When you gave me this, I made you a promise that I would be true to you. I intend to honor that."

"So do I, baby."

"So, now that we have that resolved, we probably should think about getting some dinner."

He quirked a smile. "Already done. I picked up some KFC on the way home, and something special ..."

Sydney followed his line of sight to the kitchen table, and there sat a big chocolate-frosted cake with pink icing flowers around the border. She went to inspect, and then looked back at Danny, who was sitting smug on the couch.

"What's the occasion?" she asked.

"Remember that cardiologist conference in Atlanta that the hospital could only send two people to, and I wasn't one of them? Well, Roger came down with the flu, so guess who gets to go, after all?"

Sydney smiled brilliantly, ran across the room and engulfed him in her arms. "Oh, that's wonderful! I know how much you had wanted to go. When does it start?"

"I leave Tuesday afternoon and get back Saturday night. Three days before Christmas."

"Baby, that is wonderful. I'm so happy for you."

She leaned in to kiss him again, but they broke off in laughter when her stomach growled loudly. So Danny got up to serve dinner. They had big sloppy helpings of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and biscuits, then cut the cake. Sydney swiped a finger full of frosting off the top and smeared it on Danny's nose, then went in to playfully eat it up. Danny responded with a frosting attack of his own, and before long, they had shed their clothes and had frosting in almost every place imaginable. There on the couch, Danny made love to her, and rarely could Sydney remember her husband being so tender and attentive.

Afterward, they cleaned up their chocolate mess and went to bed. Danny fell asleep almost immediately, scooped against her back and with one arm draped over her stomach. Sydney, however, lay awake for much longer. Now Danny would be gone for a week, and she regarded it as a good thing because it was a week in which she didn't have to sneak. Maybe by the time he got back, all this spy business would be resolved.

The evening with him had been so nice -- at least after she had satisfied him that she wasn't cheating. Best of all, for a few short hours, she had forgotten all about her parents and the CIA. Now it came back in a rush.

Her fingers clenched around the blankets, the only way she had to express her frustration. Danny accepted her lies so easily, and she felt like she was taking advantage of his trust every time she opened her mouth. If only she could talk to him like she could to Vaughn, then everything would be all right. At least she _had_ Vaughn. Sydney knew she would hate herself even more if not for his understanding and support.

She closed her eyes and soon after fell asleep, with Danny's arm wrapped around her and Vaughn's gentle smile in her mind.

##

Feedback please? I'd love to hear what you think. 


	8. chapter 8

Into the Deep 

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** Thank you for the feedback. Please keep it coming, or I'll think no one is reading anymore (not like that would stop me from writing, though). I've been neglectful these past couple of chapters in thanking my beta, Neptune, who gives me both great criticism and support. 

## 

"Hello?"

"Hello, Sark. Any progress at SD-6?"

"None, I'm afraid. Either Sloane is not aware of the location of the other box, or it's information he doesn't intend to share."

"Very well. I think we need to explore other options. We're running out of time."

"What do you have in mind?"

"We know that either SD-6 or the CIA has the box or knows its location. The quickest way to acquire the information we need is to gain the cooperation of the one man in both organizations. He has a weakness. We need to exploit it."

"His daughter, you mean."

"Of course."

"Sydney is your daughter, as well. You don't intend to harm her, do you?"

"Not physically. And not to the point where she will know I am involved. We have established that she won't put herself into our hands voluntarily, so more extreme measures must be taken."

"I see. You expect me to do your dirty work."

"It's what I pay you for, after all."

#

Jack pushed open the door to Devlin's office without so much as knocking. Such niceties had their uses at times of leisure, but the issue pressing on Jack's mind was too urgent to wait another second. Lives depended on his speed. Certainly his own, and probably Sydney's as well.

Devlin looked up from the contents of several folders spread across his desk as Jack marched into the room and firmly shut the door behind him. Surprisingly, he didn't look angry, but perhaps he had expected something might happen to cause such an entrance.

"Jack," he said in greeting, "how was Puerto Rico?"

"Fine. We have a problem."

"I wouldn't expect you to come barging in here with anything less. Have a seat."

"We don't have time for that." Jack set both palms flat on the desk and loomed over the CIA director. "Sark pulled me aside at SD-6 headquarters not an hour ago. He informed me that he is aware of my status as a double agent and said that if I don't cooperate with him, he will give that information to Sloane."

Devlin's eyes narrowed. "I wonder how he found out about you."

"Considering the timing, I think it's logical to assume that he's working with Derevko."

"All right then. It seems that Sark has become a major liability. We can't afford to have your position at SD-6 compromised, so maybe it's time to take him out of the picture. We could arrange for Sark to be brought in for questioning."

"You think he hasn't thought of that? He also informed me that if he dies or disappears, the order goes out for Sydney's death."

"He could be bluffing."

"I don't think so. Sark isn't stupid. He wouldn't try to blackmail me without safeguards for himself."

Devlin leaned back and rubbed one hand across his chin in thought, but he said nothing. Jack knew he had to make him fully understand the seriousness of this situation. He leaned farther over the desk.

"You're right that I can't risk being exposed," he said. "It would put Security Section on my trail and take away a valuable asset for the CIA. But I won't risk Sydney's life, either."

"No one is asking you to sacrifice your daughter. What does Sark want from you?"

"He wants the other box. He knows either the CIA or SD-6 has it and I'm in a high enough position in both organizations to get it."

"Well, we can't give it to him."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Satisfied that Devlin was willing to listen to his opinion on the matter, Jack allowed himself to relax enough to sit down. 

"We need to get Sydney out of the country for a while," he said. "She needs to disappear long enough for me to deal with Sark."

"We can't send her out there alone. She's not trained in how to keep a low profile."

"She'll do all right with some guidance. I suggest sending Agent Vaughn with her. Sydney seems to trust him. More than she trusts me at the moment."

Devlin nodded. "All right. That sounds like a plan, but we have to act quickly. Do you know where your daughter is now?"

#

Sydney gave her husband a kiss, watched him walk through the airport security point and disappear into the crowd. He wouldn't return from his conference for almost a week, and she could only hope that this strange business of espionage would be done by then.

On the drive home, she had plenty of time to think, about recent events and about herself. She knew she was the sort of person who enjoyed maintaining a measure of control. Lately, though, events had swept her up and carried her where they would. She had lost control of her own life, and she hated it.

So no more, she thought. From this moment forward, she would regain some say in her life. She wouldn't let the CIA, her mother or anyone else manipulate her for their own purposes. She was through with their schemes.

Logically, Sydney didn't know how much control she could actually regain, considering the situation, but the idea of it made her feel better.

Instead of going home, she drove to the mall. With Christmas only a week away, she had crossed very few people off her gift shopping list. She still had to buy for Danny, her father and Francie. She wondered as she passed a display of neck ties whether she should get something for Agent Vaughn. She knew nothing about his tastes, though, except for his penchant for well-tailors suits and leather jackets.

Along the back wall of a bookstore, hidden behind tall shelves, she sifted through a row of medical fiction, the stuff Danny loved to read but Sydney could never get into. She preferred her spy novels, but she wasn't sure she would ever pick up one of those again, now that she had experienced the real thing.

She had finally picked out a book when she felt hot breath on the back of her neck.

"Don't turn around, Sydney."

"Mom?" she asked, startled. Still, she obeyed. For all she knew, Irina had a weapon at her back.

"I don't have much time," Irina whispered. "I've come to warn you. Your life is in danger."

Sydney suddenly felt lightheaded and had to grab the bookshelf to keep steady. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"

"I have reliable sources."

"How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"Sydney, we don't have time. Now listen very carefully. Your father's enemies are using your life to blackmail him. If he doesn't do exactly what they want, they will kill you. You need to get out of Los Angeles as quickly as possible."

"The CIA will protect me."

"The CIA can do nothing for you. Sydney, your father has lied to you. He doesn't just work for the government, he is a double agent."

Sydney felt like she had been punched in the gut. "What? You lie."

"I have never lied to you. Your father also works for an organization called the Alliance that would have him killed if it knew of his CIA dealings. They would have you killed, as well. These enemies of your father are threatening to expose him."

Anger rushed through Sydney, that someone would dare to use her against her own father. Right now it didn't matter that another secret had been spoken, only that she somehow warn Jack. She set her choice of book firmly back on the shelf and turned with every intention of going to find him, but Irina firmly pushed her against the shelves.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her intense eyes locked on Sydney's.

"I have to stop this."

"How would you do that? These people, you don't know how powerful they are."

"I'll find a way."

She brushed her mother's hands aside, only to find Irina blocking her way again.

"Your devotion to your father is admirable. The best thing you can do for him is to get out of Los Angeles. I can take you where his enemies won't look. I can protect you, and in doing so, protect your father."

"You don't care about him," Sydney spat. "You left him just as you left me."

"I care about you. Please."

Sydney said nothing.

Irina pulled something from her coat pocket and slipped it into Sydney's purse before Sydney could react. "I've given you directions to an airfield south of the city where my plane will be taking off in three hours. I leave the choice to you, but for your sake -- and for your father -- I hope you come."

With a smile that was almost loving, Irina brushed a lock of hair from Sydney's face. Then she left, and Sydney's legs finally gave out. She slid down to the carpet and opened her purse to find a slip of paper, directions written neatly on it in black ink. She held in her trembling hands for a moment, before wadding it up and stuffing it back in her purse. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Vaughn, it's me. I'm at the bookstore in the mall. Irina was here."

"How long ago?" he asked, all business.

"Only a minute or two."

"Probably too late to catch her, but it's worth trying. Thanks."

She almost hung up, when she thought of something else. Something Irina had said. "Vaughn?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you. Will you meet me at the warehouse?"

"I'm on my way."

#

Vaughn got there first and was waiting to greet her with a smile, but Sydney marched right up to him to stand toe to toe. Although she hardly reached his shoulder, a sudden rush of confidence made her feel at least his height, and taller. He backed off a step at her glare.

"You _knew_ my father was a double agent," she accused.

"Hello to you, too."

"No more secrets. No more lies. What is the Alliance?"

"How do you know about that? From Irina?"

"Tell me, and then I'll talk."

She could tell Vaughn knew she meant it, so he sighed and bowed his head. "The Alliance is a mercenary organization, much like what your mother does but on a larger scale. It has several cells all over the world. The L.A. cell is called SD-6. It's one of the few that we know the location of."

"And my father works for them?"

"Your father is under cover, working to bring them down. Now I've answered your question, so you answer mine. Where did you get this information?"

"Irina," she admitted and Vaughn scowled. Her answer obviously had upset him and he wasn't paying notice to her anymore, so she reached up one hand to touch his cheek, and she had his full attention again. "Vaughn, I understand why you didn't tell me about this. But I need know if there is anything else I don't know. My mother keeps showing up with information that you and my father are holding back. If there is anything else, tell me now."

He shook his head. "Syd, as of right now, you know everything I know, which makes you a massive security breach, but that's beside the point. I have nothing else to tell."

"All right then," she said, satisfied with his answer, "there's something else. Irina told me that there is someone -- an enemy -- who is trying to force my father into cooperation by threatening my life."

Vaughn's eyes grew wide. "I don't know anything about that."

"Irina said I need to get out of Los Angeles. If what she says is true, then I think she's right. I do need to leave. But not with her." She took a deep breath. "Vaughn, I need your help with this. I can't do it alone, and you're the only one I trust."

He ran a hand through his hair, deep in thought. "Syd, I just don't know that --"

He broke off, looking alarmed.

"What?" Sydney asked, but he waved her quiet.

Then she heard it -- footsteps coming their way, growing louder. It sounded like more than one person, but no one knew that Sydney and Vaughn had met here. Dim golden light reflected against the fence from a flashlight.

"Quickly," Vaughn whispered, and wrapped his fingers around her arm.

She followed him to the back wall, behind some crates and into a shallow alcove only a couple of feet wide. The shadows gave them some cover but not enough should someone know to look for them. They squeezed into the alcove facing each other, the fit so tight that their chests and legs pressed against each other.

Sydney's breath came heavily, pressing her harder against Vaughn every time she filled her lungs, and blood rushed to her head. From her angle, she could see the light grow brighter, and heard the chain-link gate rattle as someone entered. Vaughn shifted against her as he reached under his coat for his gun. The look he gave her expressed worry, but no fear. He had probably done this sort of thing before.

Whoever was out there took a couple of slow steps, echoed on the concrete. They might be those enemies Irina had spoken of, come to kill her, yet Sydney felt more alive than she could ever remember. Blood pumped hard through her entire body, and her senses had ratcheted up to a higher level. She could smell a hint of Vaughn's aftershave and felt every inch of him pressed against her. She reveled in the sensations and didn't even care about the impropriety of it. It was intoxicating.

Another step. And another. The flashlight panned the room.

"Hello? Sydney?"

Adrenaline left her body like air whooshing from a balloon. She dropped her head against Vaughn's shoulder and shook with silent laughter. All this tension, and it was only her father.

"I don't understand," said another voice, one Sydney didn't recognize. "The device tracked her here."

"We're here," Vaughn said, and they emerged from their hiding place. "We thought you might be someone else."

"Someone not a friend, I assume," Jack said, eyeing the gun in Vaughn's hand. When Vaughn looked a bit shame-faced, he added, "Caution is good. It keeps you alive."

"Agent Vaughn," said the other man, smoothing his crisp suit. "It's good to find you here, too. We have news that affects you both."

Sydney gave the man a confused look, and Vaughn noticed.

"This is CIA Director Devlin," he explained. "Sir, this is Sydney Hecht."

Devlin extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Sydney. I've heard from both your father and Agent Vaughn that you've handled yourself well the past few days. Which is good, considering what's coming next."

She shook his hand, but it was to her father she said, "What is going on? Why are you here?"

Jack answered, "A threat has been made against you, Sydney, by people who want me to betray the CIA. I won't do it, but I also will not allow you to get hurt."

"So it is true," she breathed.

Jack gave her a strange look for her cryptic remark but said nothing.

"If Sydney is in danger," Vaughn said, "then we need to get her away from here."

"Exactly our thinking," Devlin said. "Agent Vaughn, we want you to accompany her. You need to get her out of the country as quickly as possible. You leave this afternoon."

Sydney broke in. "This afternoon? But what about my students? They're on Christmas break now but only until after New Year's. And Danny? What if I'm not here when he gets back from his convention?"

"I'll take care of the school and Danny," Jack said. "I'll accompany you back to your house now so you can gather a few things, but then it's straight to the airport."

Sydney nodded and put up no more objections. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted, why she had asked Vaughn to meet her here in the first place. So Irina had been wrong. The CIA would help her, after all. Still, she hadn't thought about the consequences until now. For how long exactly would she have to go into hiding? At least she wasn't going alone.

Vaughn saw her concern and squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, it'll be OK."

She smiled up at him. "I know. Thanks."

Her father beckoned to her, and she went to his side. "We have to hurry," he said. "Agent Vaughn, she'll meet you at the airport in two hours."

As they all exited the building, Devlin asked, "Two hours? Did Sark give you that much time?"

"He gave me no deadline," Jack responded. "Even so, I fear that time might have already run out."

##

Feedback please? I'd love to hear what you think. 


	9. chapter 9

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** Sorry again for the big delay between posting chapters. I have an excuse this time. I got married, which, as anyone who has planned a wedding knows, takes up a ton of time. But it's all done with now, and I don't even have any new Alias episodes to watch until fall, so I'm back to writing. I need something to keep me going until next season and the explanation for that whopper for a cliff-hanger. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Even if you don't, please let me know what you think. I always love to hear your thoughts. 

##

Sydney and her father said little on the short trip to the house, only enough to communicate Sydney's needs in packing her luggage. They moved quickly, with Jack repeatedly checking rooms before he would let her enter, and he rushed her out the door after only 10 minutes. Sydney didn't dare to object after seeing his urgency. She only hoped she had gathered everything she would need -- it was difficult to pack for a trip when she didn't know her destination.

As they drove to the airport, Los Angeles passing by outside the windows, Sydney almost feared to break the silence, as though doing so would bring her father's enemies down upon them. Jack for his part kept checking his mirrors. He made a few wrong turns and doubled back to throw off any possible pursuit.

To pass the time, she thought about what her mother and Vaughn had said about the Alliance, and about her father. It was hard to believe that Jack Bristow, whom she had always thought a simple salesman, was a double-agent. He lived the life of some fictitious character, yet he was real. Her father. She couldn't quite reconcile the conflict. Glancing sidelong at him, she considered several times bringing up the subject but decided against it. Talk of such things could wait for a later time, after they resolved the current crisis.

When they had almost reached the airport turnoff, Jack finally spoke, the quiet calm of his voice a contrast to the tension they both felt.

"Sydney, I'd like to talk for a moment."

She gave him a wary look. She knew that tone. He didn't use it often, but when he did, it usually meant he was about to broach a difficult subject.

"Talk about what?" she asked.

"I realize that you're not an agent, but what you're about to embark on is essentially a covert operation. As such, I feel I should warn you about certain dangers, beyond the obvious."

He glanced over at her, possibly waiting for a response, but Sydney kept quiet and schooled her expression into a blank slate that she hoped hid her fear and uncertainty. After what seemed several minutes -- but was closer to seconds -- Jack continued.

"When you are on an assignment, you tend to feel more free... less constrained by the rules of society and by your life at home. I have quite a lot of experience with this, and I can tell you that it's a liberating feeling, but also a dangerous one. Things have a way of ... happening."

"What sort of things? Dad, what are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you to always be on your guard, and to remember your life in Los Angeles and not to do anything that might jeopardize it."

"My life here? You mean with Danny? I --"

Sydney broke off, suddenly understanding the issue her father so skillfully danced around. She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're talking about Vaughn aren't you? You think I'll forget Danny and do something --"

"I never said that."

"I _love_ Danny. He is never far from my thoughts, and I will never be disloyal to him."

"Sydney, you can interpret what I said any way you want. Just don't forget it."

They fell silent again, which was fine with Sydney because she didn't want to talk anymore, anyway. Her father had come close to questioning her devotion to Danny, which insulted her deeply. Were things different -- were she free -- she might allow something with Vaughn. But the point was moot. She had a husband, and that was it. Besides, after all that had happened, romance was the farthest thing from her mind.

She turned her face away from her father, looked out the passenger-side window as they circled around to the terminal. In these tense days, cars could pause long enough outside the terminals to drop off passengers and give quick good-byes, so Jack didn't bother to even unbuckle his seat belt. He popped the trunk, and Sydney opened her door.

"Vaughn is waiting inside."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Sydney ..."

She started to get out, but stopped.

"I apologize if I offended you. I'm only ..."

He stopped, as though not sure what to say, but Sydney already knew. He was gruff, and at times undiplomatic, but he was only looking out for her the best way he knew how.

She leaned in through the car door and kissed his cheek.

"Be careful, Dad."

"You, too, sweetheart. I'll see you soon."

She retrieved her carry-on, and as soon as she closed the trunk, her father pulled away. She waved, but she didn't know whether he saw.

Vaughn indeed was waiting inside, although it took Sydney a couple of minutes to find him among the crowd of harried travelers. He was sitting on a bench by a series of phone booths, and when he spotted her as well, he started toward her, rolling his luggage behind him and carrying something thin and brown in his hand. His eyes locked on her so that he didn't see an older lady crossing his path. Sydney stifled a laugh as he apologized for colliding with the lady -- who yelled at him to watch where he was going -- then continued on his way.

"That was graceful," she quipped as he reached her. "Very covert."

"Yeah, well, no one said I was good at this." He held out his hand, which she now saw held a large brown envelope. "This is for you."

She reached out to take it but caught a glint of something on Vaughn's finger. She took hold of his hand instead and twisted it gently to better see the plain band of gold. Without a word, she held up her own left hand to his to confirm what she already knew -- the rings matched perfectly.

"It's our cover," he said softly. "We're traveling as husband and wife. It attracts less attention."

She didn't say anything, and couldn't seem to look away from the ring.

"I know it's a little weird," he said.

"You have no idea," Sydney murmured. "It looks exactly like Danny's."

"It even has the date etched on the inside."

Sydney furrowed her brows. "But how ..."

"Your father gave the CIA some information on you before he and Devlin came to find us. They came up with what we needed. Which brings us back to the envelope, which is what you will need."

At his prompting, she dropped his hand and took the envelope. She started to tear through the flap, but Vaughn shook his head.

"Not here. Go someplace private. The ladies room might work."

"Sorry. I'm kinda new at this."

"That's why I'm here. Listen, why don't you go review your stuff, and I'll buy our tickets. Do you have a preference on where we go? We've been given clearance to travel just about anywhere."

She smiled shyly. "I've always wanted to see Paris."

"Paris it is, then," he said with a grin. "I've always been partial to France."

She nodded, and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Her eyes strayed to his left hand, then back to his face, and she studied him. She grudgingly admitted to herself -- now that they stood face to face -- that maybe her feelings for Vaughn went beyond friendship, and she could tell from his tender, concerned look that he certainly felt something for her. With the realization, a wave of giddiness swept over her, along with heavy guilt, and she looked away.

Not that it mattered. She wouldn't do or say anything, out of respect and love for Danny, and Vaughn was too much of a gentleman to make advances toward a married woman.

"Do you know where the restroom is?" she asked.

"Um, yeah. There's one just down that way, along the far wall."

"I'll be back soon."

Once in the restroom, she locked herself in a stall, finished ripping open the envelope and dumped the contents into her lap. She started with the index card on top, printed in a no-nonsense font and which read like a dossier.

"Alias: Katherine Annabel Jones," it stated at the top, then went on:

Birth date: August 5, 1973  
Place of birth: Buffalo, New York  
Current residence: Los Angeles  
Husband: John Matthew Jones  
Married: June 3, 2002  
Children: None

It also included a fictitious address, phone number, place of employment and other bits of information that make up the face a person presents to society. This, of course, was the identity she would go by while in hiding. She hadn't known she would have an alias, but she wasn't surprised now that she held the information in her hands.

She set aside the card and looked through the other contents of the envelope -- a social security card, driver's license, birth certificate, passport and other pieces of identification, all in the name of Katherine Jones and with her own smiling face pictured on many of them.

"Incredible," she murmured to herself.

In such a short amount of time, the CIA had created a completely new and -- at least on paper -- legitimate person. She examined her driver's license photo to find it was the same one on her real license, and the same with her passport. The agency must have access to all her information, which proved convenient in this case, but it also made her a little nervous that the government had the power to manipulate identity in this way.

At the bottom of the pile were a couple of credit cards and traveler's checks, all in the name of her alter-ego, and a brown leather wallet. No wonder her father had told her to leave her IDs at home; she certainly didn't need them. Sydney Hecht was staying in Los Angeles, and Kate Jones was taking off for Paris.

She went back to the index card and quickly committed to memory all the important information, then ripped it into tiny pieces and dumped them in the toilet. If that card were found on her in these suspicious times, she would probably be arrested or at least detained for questioning. She organized all the other IDs in the wallet, put it in her purse and remembered to flush before heading back out to the terminal.

"So is everything fine?" Vaughn asked after they had reconvened.

"Yeah. No problems."

"Good. I didn't think there would be. I got our tickets," he said, giving one to her. "The flight leaves in about an hour."

"First class?" she said, examining it.

"I figured it's a long trip, we might as well travel in comfort."

"I've never been in first class," she said, and he just smiled. "Should we go to our gate, then? It'll take awhile to get through security."

They first flew to New York City with a layover there of a couple of hours before heading out across the Atlantic. The airport hummed with the energy of humanity as passengers jostled with each other to move faster down the concourses, and a cheerful voice kept announcing over the intercom to not trust strangers with your bags. Sydney stayed close to Vaughn's side and kept one hand firmly on her purse.

It wasn't as though she had never traveled before, but she felt as though this was her first time. She watched each passerby with suspicion, as though this would be the one to see through their cover and trumpet it to the world. They would see the false marriage, the false names -- that the Joneses were not what they seemed. They would report to her father's enemies, and what happened next Sydney didn't want to even speculate.

"Hey, you need to relax," Vaughn whispered to her as they sat at their gate. He kneaded her shoulders with strong, sure hands. "You look like you're about to pop."

"That's because I am about to pop. I keep thinking that someone will recognize us, or see that we're not who we say we are."

"No one is who they say they are. Besides, everyone here is too wrapped up in their own problems to think much about anyone else. As far as anyone cares, we're just another couple on our way to vacation, or to visit family."

"I know, I know. But I just can't shake this feeling that something horrible is going to happen."

"Just take a few deep breaths ... that's good. I do this sort of thing all the time, remember? Very rarely does anything go wrong." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Are you all right?"

She attempted a smile and nodded.

"Good. Now I have to run a short errand. Will you be OK if I leave you here for a few minutes?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

Vaughn was gone for quite awhile, and the clock resolutely ticked toward their boarding time. Sydney checked her watch often and scanned down the concourse for Vaughn's familiar form. An attendant at their gate allowed the first passengers to board, then called for first class, and still Sydney sat and waited, her purse clenched in both hands. What would she do if he didn't return?

A few minutes later, as coach passengers were boarding, her fears subsided as Vaughn reappeared.

"I'm sorry it took so long, he said. "I had a few calls to make, and I wanted to get you these. Took awhile to find in all those gift shops, but I thought it might be useful."

He held out a small, neatly packaged box that read "French for beginners" and a portable CD player. The box indicated that inside were a book and CD.

"Thank you," she said, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "I took Spanish in school, so the extent of my French knowledge is bonjour and adieu."

"Actually, the French don't like to say 'goodbye,'" he said as he steered them toward the gate. "It's too final. They like to say 'see you tomorrow' or 'until later.'"

"OK, then. How do you say that?"

"_A tout a l'heure_ is 'see you later.'"

"Just how do you know so much about French?"

"My mother is French," he said with a grin, "so I got to know the language pretty well. And I always loved Paris."

No matter Sydney's fears, their documentation was good enough to get them onto the plane. He gave her the window seat, and they buckled in for the long flight to Paris. Now that they were here, ready to take off, Sydney started to calm down and even felt a hint of excitement.

She reached over to take Vaughn's hand.

"Vaughn, I --"

"Uh-uh," he whispered. "I'm not Vaughn, you're not Syd. Remember our covers."

"Sorry. This isn't easy for me."

"I know."

"I just wanted to say thank you, for doing all this. I would be lost without you."

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "It's my pleasure," he said.

She looked out the window to hide her reddening cheeks. Of course his gesture was simply part of their cover -- what husband wouldn't show affection for his wife? -- but her hand tingled from where his lips had touched. Her father's words came back in a rush.

_Things have a way of happening._

She thought of Danny, and couldn't bring herself to look at Vaughn for a long time.

#

"Hello?"

"It's Sark."

"Are we on schedule?"

"The ruse worked, of course. I'm constantly amazed at how well you play people, Irina. The CIA immediately sent Sydney away, believing she would be safer outside Los Angeles."

"And the homing device?"

"The one you slipped into her purse, you mean? No one has found it, and it's working perfectly. They're in New York, but that's probably not their final destination."

"They? So the CIA sent someone with her."

"Yes. An agent named Vaughn. That's all I know about him."

"I recognize the name. My daughter has mentioned him."

"Would you like me to follow?"

"Yes. But make sure you take them both alive. I want to keep our options open."

"Of course."

"And contact me when you have them. They are the leverage we need to make Jack an offer he can't refuse."

##

feedback please? 


	10. chapter 10

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** I'm really excited about this chapter and I hope you enjoy it. While I was working on it, I put "My Immortal" by Evanescence on repeat (it set a good tone) and wrote for about three hours straight. Whew! 

Thank you to my beta, Neptune, who offered some great suggestions to help make this better. 

##

Jack tapped his fingers against his tightly folded arms as the elevator took him down at a crawl. Surely it ran faster than this yesterday. Maybe, he thought, it would have been quicker to take the stairs, despite the ache in his knee that had become a constant companion in recent years. The decades of service had taken a toll on his body, and not for the first time, Jack thought maybe the time had come to retire. But not today.

Finally the metallic doors slid open, and Jack stalked across the CIA office. More than a few people jumped out of his way when they saw the look on his face. He barely gave them notice.

Devlin wasn't in his office. Jack demanded to know where he had gone.

"He's in a meeting with Kendall," Devlin's secretary said, then yelled at him as he walked away, "He said he doesn't want to be interrupted."

"Too bad," Jack muttered under his breath.

He did have the courtesy to knock before entering Kendall's office, smaller than Devlin's but still a nice setup. The director and assistant director looked up at him from a map spread across Kendall's desk. They wore twin expressions of irritation.

"This is getting to be a bad habit, Jack," Devlin said. "Has it occurred to you that we might be discussing something important that _doesn't _concern you?"

"I apologize for the intrusion," Jack said curtly as he shut the door and walked over to the desk, "but this couldn't wait."

"What is it?" Kendall asked. "And it better be good."

"Sark is gone."

"He's what?"

"He's gone. As you know, the purpose behind sending Sydney away was to give me the freedom to deal with Sark without his threats to her safety hanging over my head. However, when I went to SD-6 this morning, I was told that he had vanished. Not even Sloane knows where he is."

Kendall gave him an appraising look. "But you think you know."

"I think we were set up. I think sending Sydney away is exactly what Irina wanted, and Sark is going after her."

"Do you have proof of this?"

"No."

Devlin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You are the one who told me that Sydney would be safer if she left. That taking her out of play would help you focus on finding Irina."

"At the time, I thought that was true. But Sark's disappearance right now, less than a day after Sydney and Vaughn left, is not coincidental." He set his palms flat on Kendall's desk and loomed over them. "I need to know where Vaughn took her. I need to contact them immediately."

"We don't know where they are," Devlin said. "That's what going undercover means."

"Then what are their aliases? I can track their passenger logs."

"I don't know, but the guys who put together their portfolios do. You can ask them."

Jack nodded and wasted no time in heading for the door.

"Jack," Kendall said.

He looked back.

"Don't let this distract you from finding Derevko. That is still the primary mission."

"I have a feeling," Jack said, "that if we find Sydney, we will also find Derevko."

# 

The hotel room had only one bed. Sydney took cursory notice of the rest of the room upon entering -- it looked like every other one she had ever been in, no matter she had crossed the Atlantic to get here -- but that bed caught and held her attention. It looked normal enough. King-sized with a solid wood headboard and flower-print bedspread.

The bed itself wasn't the problem. What made her stand frozen in the center of the room, staring dumbly at the mints on the pillows, was the thought of sleeping only inches from a man who was not her husband. Not that she didn't trust Vaughn, but she never thought she would share a bed with anyone but Danny ever again.

If only Danny knew what she was doing, he wouldn't understand the necessity of it, of maintaining the cover to protect herself. He wouldn't understand any of this. Sydney wasn't sure she understood, either.

Vaughn shut the door and set their luggage by the television. He rubbed his chin, prickly with stubble after hours without a shave, and surveyed the room.

"I'll take the couch," he said in a tone that invited no argument. "You can have the bed."

Sydney knew she should let the arrangement stand. So she was surprised to herself saying, "Don't be silly. The bed is big enough for both of us."

He gave her a quizzical look. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." She gave him a tired smile. "You stay on your side. I'll stay on mine. It'll be fine. Besides, that couch is much too small for you."

He returned the smile. "All right. The bed it is."

She looked away, embarrassed by her offer and even more so because Vaughn accepted it. What was she thinking, really?

"If you don't mind," she said quietly, trying to mask her confusion, "I'd like to take the bathroom for a while. Freshen up."

"Go ahead. It was a long trip, so I understand."

"Thanks."

She rolled her carry-on behind her into the bathroom and shut the door. She set the bag in the bath -- because that seemed the only place large enough in here for her to open it -- and dug in for her toothbrush and clothes to sleep in.

The bathroom was small, but what it lacked in size, it made for in cleanliness, for which she was thankful. After slipping into sweatpants and a tank top, she turned on the water and started scrubbing the bad taste of travel from her mouth. Then she made the mistake of looking up. A decent-sized mirror hung over the white porcelain sink, framed in ornate gold-colored trim. She didn't notice that so much, though, as she saw the woman staring back at her.

She looked tired. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in faint black circles, and the wrinkles that rarely were visible stood out with prominence. Her hair hung in dull, flat strands around her face, and her shoulders drooped with what seemed an enormous weight.

But those eyes. She kept going back to them. They bore a resemblance to her own but somehow were different. They looked older, like they had seen more than any person should. Surely this woman couldn't be herself. If Danny saw her now, he wouldn't even recognize her.

Sydney washed out her mouth and glanced up at herself again. Her vision started to blur, and she mercifully couldn't see her reflection clearly anymore. A tear fell down, and then another. She wiped at them harshly. She had no time for this self-pity, but the tears wouldn't stop. They streamed down one after another, until her cheeks and neck were soaked.

A choking sob escaped her throat as she sank to the cold tile floor. She pulled her legs to her chest, dropped her forehead to her knees and rocked as she quietly cried.

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Sydney, are you OK in there?"

She tried to answer but couldn't gather the necessary breath between sobs.

"Syd? Talk to me."

Still, she couldn't speak, but she couldn't leave him out there wondering, either. So she pulled herself up and opened the door.

"Sydney," he said softly upon seeing her. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer. Instead she stepped forward and buried her face in his shoulder, and her body shook as he wrapped his arms around her. It felt good, that human touch and warmth, and she pressed herself against his chest as though she wanted to melt into him. One of his hands started stroking her hair, and that felt good, too.

"Shhh," he said. "It's all right. You're going to be all right."

He continued to soothe her, and slowly his words started to make sense. She drew a deep breath, and another, and the sobs quieted as she regained control of herself. Still, she didn't pull away, and he didn't stop whispering his assurances. He was her anchor, and if she let go she would go adrift again, lost in confusion and fear. So she clung to him. She never wanted to leave his embrace.

"Don't worry, Syd," he was saying. "Your father is the best agent I know. He will deal with SD-6 and your mother, and you will be home before you know it. I promise."

She felt something soft and warm against her forehead and realized that he had kissed her there. Part of her knew he shouldn't do that, that she should pull away now, but she didn't want this moment to end. His lips brushed her again, against her temple, and lingered a breath longer than was proper. He stroked his hand down her hair, across her back.

Sydney lifted her head from his shoulder, now wet with her tears, and looked into his eyes. What she saw there both scared her and stole all her resolve away. He caressed her cheek, and against her better judgment she closed her eyes and moved with his touch. He exhaled in amazement, and she looked up at him again.

Vaughn lowered his face toward hers. Her eyes drifted shut as their lips met in a tentative brush. Finding no resistance, he kissed her again. Her lips parted under his, and his hand, buried in her hair, pulled her closer.

God it felt good. Felt right. Sydney opened her mouth wider, and their tongues met and twined. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Yes, this was right. This was as it should be, but it wasn't enough. She needed more. More of him. Yes. Yes.

No.

She wrenched herself away from his arms, and she could only stare at him in horror. What had she done? How would she explain this to Danny? She had just betrayed her husband.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Vaughn's eyes widened, as though he too just realized what they had done, and he backed away a step.

"Sydney, I am so sorry. I --"

"Don't," she said. For some reason, she didn't want him to apologize. It was an acknowledgement of wrongdoing that she didn't want to hear.

He regarded her in silence, the apology still plain on his face. She couldn't bear to look at him, so she dropped her gaze to the carpet.

"We should both get some sleep," she said.

"Yeah," he said after a pause, and she was thankful that he said no more.

Sydney brushed past him and around the bed to the side farthest from the door -- it was the opposite side from the one she took at home -- and pulled back the bedspread. She buried herself under the sheets to her nose, turned her back to Vaughn, and didn't move again.

Vaughn sighed loudly before she heard his footsteps take him into the bathroom. Water ran in the sink for a few minutes, then he came out and flipped off the lights. He pulled a blanket off the bottom of the bed and settled onto the couch, and still Sydney didn't turn to look at him. She couldn't. But maybe after a long night of sleep, she would feel more prepared to face him and to face the world.

#

Vaughn couldn't sleep. Sydney's breathing had evened out into the soft rhythm of unconsciousness a couple of hours ago, but every time Vaughn closed his eyes, he felt her again. Her body melded against his. Her lips pressed against his own. Such thoughts kept his eyes wide open, and he passed time by counting cracks in the ceiling.

When she had emerged from the bathroom, her face streaked with tears, he had only meant to comfort her. He had done what felt natural, and the consequences of his actions never entered his mind -- until she backed away. Now he feared how their relationship would change come tomorrow. She would most likely become wary of his intentions, and he felt sick to think he might have poisoned their trust.

Around the edges of the curtains, he watched darkness become the dull gray of dawn and blossom into full daylight. The world would awaken soon. Already he heard footsteps padding down the hallway outside their room. He considered getting up and ordering some breakfast, but he didn't want to risk waking Sydney. At least one of them should get some rest.

He couldn't understand how this had happened. He never meant to fall in love with a married woman, but Sydney was so extraordinary. Perhaps it had been inevitable. Still, his mother had raised him better than this. Society forbid it, and yet the heart never followed convention. It took its own path, and his had led him to a woman he could never have.

He should forget her. After all this was finished and they returned to Los Angeles, he should never see her again. He had fallen so quickly that it shouldn't take him long to get over her. Thus he told himself, but it wasn't that simple. He would try to stay away but eventually would seek her out. Vaughn knew, as he watched her sleep, her long beautiful hair fanned across her pillow, that he didn't have the willpower to stay away.

"I'm sorry," he said, so softly he hardly heard the words. "Syd, I don't know what to do."

She rolled onto her back and sighed, still asleep, and he froze. He hadn't meant to disturb her.

She shifted her body and made a little noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a moan. One of her hands moved lazily along her side and she made the noise again. Vaughn watched from the couch, captivated. She must be dreaming, and from appearances, the dream wasn't an innocent one.

Sydney mumbled something too quiet for Vaughn to understand and moaned again, this time louder. Her dream must be about her husband, he thought. It would be difficult for her to be so far from him at such a traumatic time.

She mumbled again, then said something that left him stunned.

"Vaughn," she breathed.

He wasn't even in the bed, but he didn't dare move for fear of waking her. His caution was for nothing, though, because she didn't speak again. After a few more seconds, she quieted and stilled. A small smile spread across her lips.

Vaughn exhaled loudly and fell back onto the couch. His tired, overloaded brain couldn't process what had just happened, and he half-convinced himself that he had misheard her. He merely _wanted_ her to dream about him, but it hadn't been real. Maybe he had dropped off and was deep in own dream.

He went back to staring at the ceiling but didn't really see it.

Out in the hall, he heard pounding footsteps as someone ran past their door, then continued on. A few seconds later, another person approached, this one much slower than the first. The steps grew gradually louder, until Vaughn knew the person was outside their door. Then the steps stopped. Vaughn held his breath. A maid had probably come to clean the room, or maybe it was the concierge.

Or maybe not.

Vaughn rolled off the couch and over to the bed. He set his hand across Sydney's mouth, and she snapped wide awake.

"Quiet," Vaughn whispered. "There's someone outside our door. I need you to --"

He never finished his instructions. The door crashed open, and Sydney yelped. A dark, lean figure was silhouetted against the bright lights of the hallway, and he raised his hand to point something at them.

"Get behind the bed!" Vaughn yelled and pushed Sydney in that direction.

There was a noise, like the sound of a muffled gun. Something hit Vaughn, and he reached up to feel a dart protruding from his neck. His vision went blurry, and a strange weightlessness came over him as he passed out.

Sydney rolled out of bed and landed on the floor just as another shot went off and something flew over her head. Her heart jackhammered in her chest, and she heard someone breathing hard. She realized it was herself.

Footsteps quietly drew closer, and she knew she had only seconds before the figure was in range to shoot again. She grabbed for the lamp on the nightstand, ripped the cord from the wall and heaved it at the dark figure as he rounded the bed. The figured dodged, and the lamp crashed into the wall.

Another shot, and Sydney felt something sting her neck. The last thing she heard before the world blacked out was a male voice, speaking in a self-assured British accent.

"Sydney Hecht," he said. "Welcome to Paris."

##

To be continued ...


	11. chapter 11

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue. 

**Notes:** Thank you for the positive feedback. I really appreciate it. :) 

##

The world spun. Sydney groaned and squeezed her eyes shut until the feeling subsided. Still, her stomach churned, and the pounding pressure in her head made it feel like it was about to implode. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton, with a bitter metallic taste, and she tried to coax some saliva but to no avail.

What was happening to her? Her head hurt too much for her to remember, but she tried anyway and slowly the details returned. Vaughn had woken her up with his hand over her mouth, and then someone had broken into their hotel room with a gun. No, not a gun. A tranquilizer. He had shot them both.

Panic gripped at her center and she firmly pushed it aside, trying to figure this out analytically. Who was the shooter? She could only assume this had something to do with her father, but how had the man known where to find them? And where was he now?

It was too much to process in her current condition, so she didn't make the effort. She rolled onto her side, and as she did, something cold and hard tugged at her legs, accompanied by an odd clinking noise. Curious, she dared to open her eyes and saw shackles around both ankles, attached to thick chains embedded in the wall behind her. Sydney tugged on them but they didn't budge, and she didn't expect them to.

Now that her eyes were open anyway, and the world had stabilized a bit, she took the opportunity to examine her surroundings. She was lying on a bare cot with a pillow and blanket folded neatly at the bottom. At the base of her bed was a deep pan she guessed was for relieving herself. The room itself had a single light bulb swinging high overhead, which gave barely enough light for her to make out the four walls. She could see no windows, and only one door.

A low groan from the far wall drew her attention, and she strained to see another cot. On it was a long, lean figure.

"Vaughn!" she called out, producing only a hoarse whisper around the dryness in her mouth. She tried again, with more success. "Vaughn! Vaughn, wake up!"

He didn't stir, and Sydney tugged at her chains in desperation. She had to get to him, to make sure he was all right. They had to get out of here.

"Vaughn! Please wake up. I need you to wake up. Please..."

Her voice echoed off the walls, but still she got no response. Sydney fell back on her cot, which creaked in protest. She had no idea what to do. Vaughn was the agent, not her. He might know how to get them out of here, but he was out cold. All Sydney could do for now was wait, and try not to panic.

#

Jack retrieved Sydney's spare key from where she had it hidden beneath a planter by the front door. Danny had not yet returned from his conference in Atlanta, so the house, as expected, was empty of people. Newspapers and magazines littered the living room coffee table, and the carpet needed vacuuming. Obviously housework was far from Sydney's thoughts nowadays.

He had come here directly from the CIA office. They had been helpful to a point in locating Sydney and Vaughn, who had arrived in Paris only hours ago. But where the two had gone from the airport, no one knew. Jack quickly scheduled a flight to France, but it wouldn't leave for another hour, so he had come here first -- hoping that perhaps Sydney had left some clue as to her whereabouts.

He smiled a little at the Christmas tree in the living room -- assuming they all lived through this, he looked forward to spending the holiday with his daughter -- and hurried into the kitchen. The sink practically overflowed with dishes. A long parade of ants marched from a dirty plate by the sink to a hairline crack near the floor. 

The answering machine on the counter display blinked in a bright red "3." With any luck, his daughter had defied the rules of no contact and had left a message for Danny.

He hit the play button.

"Hi, Syd. I've arrived in Atlanta. I'm at the airport now. Just wanted to let you know I made it and to tell you I love you. I'll call later tonight from the hotel."

Jack skipped to the next message.

"Hi, sweetheart. It's me again. Are you there? ... No, huh? Um, OK. I'm at the hotel. Room 347, if you want to call back. I also have my cell phone but I'm supposed to turn it off during conference sessions. Just leave a message and I'll get back to you. Love you. Bye."

He pressed skip again, going to the last new message.

"Syd, where are you? I've been trying to call for hours and no one is answering. Do you have the ringer turned off? I'm getting worried. Please, call me when you get this message. I'll have my cell phone turned on. Don't worry about interrupting one of my sessions. Just call. OK?"

The machine beeped twice, signaling the end of its recordings.

"Damn," Jack muttered.

"Not what you were hoping for, was it?"

Jack whirled around. He started to reach for his gun but backed his hands slowly away when he saw Irina Derevko walking toward him, her own gun pointed at his head.

"I suppose this shouldn't surprise me," he said. "I knew you'd turn up sooner or later."

"I assume you were hoping for a message from Sydney. Right?" She smiled grimly. "Yet all you get is my son-in- law. Danny is not whom I would have picked for her. I prefer the other one. Agent Vaughn. He seems more of a match for our daughter, don't you think?"

"Where is Sydney?"

"She's safe. I'm having Mr. Sark keep her and Agent Vaughn company. You could try to find them, but by the time you did, it would be too late."

"You won't hurt them." He sounded more certain of that than he felt.

Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that?"

"Because you're here. You want something, and they are your bargaining chip."

"You think so?"

Jack's jaw tightened. "Don't play games with me, Irina. What will it take to make you release them?"

"Oh, Jack, why even ask when you already know?"

The answer suddenly came to him, so obvious and simple. "You want the other box."

"Bring it to me. Here, four hours from now. And come alone. If you comply, Sydney will live. If not..." She shrugged.

"You wouldn't kill your own daughter."

"I do what I must, as will you, Jack," she said as she started backing toward the front door, her gun still trained on him. "Bring me the box."

"Even if I do bring it, and you let Sydney go, you've ruined any chance of repairing your relationship with her. She will never trust you again."

"We'll see about that." She smiled coldly and vanished out the door.

Jack drew his gun and ran after her, but by the time he reached the porch, she was gone.

#

Sydney lost all sense of time. With no windows in this small, dark room, she couldn't guess the hour, or whether it was day or night. At least several hours had passed judging by her hunger and thirst, but she had no idea of how long she had been unconscious before that. For all she knew, days had passed since she had Vaughn had arrived in Paris.

She had used the bed pan only once, and then with some embarrassment, her eyes scanning the walls for a security camera she knew was somewhere. After that, she had wrapped herself in the blanket on her cot -- the room had no heating, and a shivering cold had seeped into her -- and she waited.

As for Vaughn, he still lay unmoving on his cot. She had long since given up on calling out to him. She had rattled her chains and thrown her pillow at him, all to no avail. She worried that he might have a head injury that kept him from waking, or perhaps he had gotten a stronger dose of whatever drug had initially knocked them out. Still she watched and hoped that he would soon revive.

She also watched the room's solitary door, even though it had yet to be opened since she had come to. Someone would eventually have to check on them. They needed food and water, and Vaughn needed medical attention. Sydney toyed with the idea of faking a medical emergency, just to get a person in here. Whoever their captors were, they had gone to a great amount of trouble to bring Sydney and Vaughn here, and they wouldn't let them die so quickly.

Or would they? For all her speculation, Sydney didn't fully know what was going on. Perhaps their captors didn't care whether they lived or died.

For the first time since waking up, she felt a genuine wave of fear that she couldn't suppress. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. It would only make matters worse if she had a panic attack.

After what seemed many more hours, a soft click drew her attention, and the door opened. Sydney squinted against the bright lights outside. A man entered, carrying something in both hands. Sydney watched in silence as he set a plate of food and glass of water on the floor by her bed.

As her vision adjusted, she saw him better. He was tall --well, taller than her, at least -- with blond hair and intense eyes. He gestured to the food.

"You should eat," he said, and she recognized his voice. He had been the one to shoot her and Vaughn.

She spit at him. It fell short, and he smirked.

"Suit yourself," he said and gestured behind him.

Two more men entered and crossed to Vaughn's bed. She couldn't see clearly what they were doing, but she heard Vaughn's chains rattle, then clank to the floor. The men grabbed Vaughn under his armpits and dragged him out the door.

"No!" Sydney yelled. Forgetting she was shackled, she tried to jump off the cot at them and ended up face-first on the floor, the wind knocked out of her.

The blond man hauled her up and back onto her cot as she gasped for air.

"Now that wasn't overly bright."

"Where are you taking him?" Sydney growled.

"That doesn't concern you, Ms. Hecht. You should be more worried about your own survival."

He turned to leave.

"Hey," Sydney yelled, and he looked back at her. "Who are you?"

"Someone you will have to try harder to please, if you want your friend to live. Now eat."

The door shut, and Sydney was alone. With the threat to Vaughn's safety thick in the air, she picked up the food and drink. He had left her an apple, an orange and dried meat. She started with drinking half the water, then peeled the orange. She would need her strength if she were going to escape, find Vaughn and get out of here.

Problem was, she didn't have the slightest clue how to start.

#

Jack removed the box from the CIA warehouse with so little hassle that it surprised him. His badge allowed him entrance to the facility, and no guard bothered to check his belongings on the way out. It worried him that taking evidence was so simple. He would have to speak with Devlin about improving security there, after the end of the current crisis.

He arrived back at Sydney's house four hours and 15 minutes after his last meeting with Irina. The sun had dipped below the tree line, bathing the world in dim golden light. All down the street, houses were glowing with Christmas lights, except for the Hecht residence. From the outside, the house appeared empty: no cars in the driveway, no lights through the windows. Yet Jack knew she was waiting inside, and possibly not alone. He suspected that he was about to walk into a trap but he had no choice. If he didn't show, Sydney would die.

So he lifted the box from the passenger side floor and examined it, to really see what all this fuss was about. It was on the smallish side, fitting snuggly in his cupped hands. Carved into the wooden lid and sides were symbols, meaningless to Jack but so important to Irina that she would kill for them. Kill her own daughter.

Jack had no clue as to what the box did, or what it said, and he only hoped that he wasn't handing the key to world domination over to Irina Derevko. Even so, for Sydney, he would hand over a hundred like it. Nothing in this world meant so much to Jack Bristow as his only daughter.

He tucked the box into an inside coat pocket and stepped out of the car with gun drawn. With cautious steps, he made his way around the house to the back door. It was cracked open. The door creaked as he pushed it open wider, announcing his presence to all within. With the element of surprise gone, he sighed and entered.

The house was dark, and Jack's eyes need time to adjust. For all he knew, he was surrounded.

"You have the box?"

Irina's voice came from the shadows, somewhere to his left.

"Yes, I have it," he said.

"Set it on the floor and step away."

"First tell me where Sydney is."

"We play by my rules, Jack. Do as I say if you value Sydney's life."

With no other options, he complied. Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she came forward, into the last light of day cast through the window. She held no weapon, a pointed reminder of her hold over Jack. She knew he would not harm her so long as Sydney was hers.

She bent over and scooped up the box in one graceful motion. Her lips curled in a satisfied smile. She pulled a small device from her coat pocket and scanned the box for homing devices, coming up clean.

His patience run out, Jack said, "All right, you have what you wanted. Now tell me where you're holding my daughter and Agent Vaughn."

"Do you take me for a fool, Jack? The moment you have that information, you're free to kill me or hand me over to the CIA."

His eyes narrowed. "We have a deal."

"Indeed we do. You give me the box, and I let Sydney live. I'm living up to my side of that bargain. Whether Sydney contacts you is her choice, not mine."

He was across the room so fast that Irina had no time to react. Jack slammed her against the refrigerator, magnets and the snapshots they held falling to the floor. He pressed his gun hard against her neck, and she flinched. But her voice betrayed no fear.

"Kill me, and you'll never get her back," she rasped.

"Make the call," Jack growled. "Contact Sark. Tell him to release Sydney and Agent Vaughn."

"I can't," she said firmly.

Jack pressed the gun harder. "Can't? Or won't."

"Can't. This exchange must go down in a specific way. I must be to a designated place within the hour, alone. The place is well-guarded, so forget about getting in. I call Sark from a landline that will register on his caller ID so he knows my location. If there is any deviation in this plan -- anything at all -- he will kill them."

Jack said nothing. He merely looked into her eyes, searching for the truth.

"You have to let me go, Jack."

"You're bluffing."

"Are you willing to stake Sydney's life on it?"

He paused. "I will need some assurance that she is safe."

"Once I've made the call, I'll contact you with her location."

He held the gun there for a moment longer, then pushed Irina away in frustration. She landed hard against a counter and rubbed at her neck.

"You made the right choice," she said.

Jack turned his back, fists clenched at his side, as Irina made her exit. She had put him in a bad position, without any guarantees that she would follow through on her end of the bargain. He wanted so badly to pull the trigger, but he had no choice. He couldn't take the chance that Irina was telling the truth.

Now, all he could do was wait.

##


	12. chapter 12

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue.

**Notes:** Thank you to Neptune, my wonderful beta. 

##

"I have the second box." 

"Good. I really didn't want to have to kill your daughter." 

"How is she?"

"Scared, but unharmed."

"And Agent Vaughn?"

"Heavily sedated. Should I release them?"

"Not yet."

"That was the plan. As soon as Bristow delivered the box, they were to be let go."

"The plan has changed. I'll be there in a few hours, and I want you to hold them until then." 

"You're not thinking of bringing her with us, are you?" 

"She has talent. With some training, Sydney could be of great use."

"Only if she trusts you. Even you must admit that having her kidnapped does not inspire a trusting relationship." 

"She doesn't know I'm involved in that."

"And the CIA agent? Would we bring him as well?"

"He would only get in the way. Divide Sydney's loyalties. He's of no use to us."

"So how do you plan to pull this off?"

"Patience, Sark. You will know soon enough. In the meantime, I have another call to make and a plane to catch."

#

Jack was halfway to the airport when his cell phone rang. He intended to leave immediately for France and search for his daughter. What he didn't expect was for Irina to fulfill her promise to contact him with Sydney's location. As the phone beeped on the passenger-side seat, though, he dared to hope.

He picked it up, continuing to drive with his free hand.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello, Jack."

He breathed out in relief. "Where is Sydney?"

"In an old office building just south of Paris. I'm going to give you a phone number. When you reach Paris, call the number and you will receive exact directions."

"Give them to me now."

"We play this my way."

"You have what you wanted. You have the box," he said angrily, "now tell me where she is."

"You're going to have to trust me."

"I've made that mistake before."

"I don't have time for this, Jack. Now listen carefully."

#

Sydney woke with an awful headache. She hadn't slept well, huddled cold under her blanket on the hard cot, listening to water drip through the wall at her back. She had come awake several times to the same empty room, staring at the same empty cot across from her own. Vaughn had not returned, and she spent hours wishing the two of them had left things differently at the hotel. In one moment of weakness, she had allowed their relationship to become damaged and uncertain. If she never saw him again, if their captors killed him ... 

No, she refused to think about that. He would come back to her. He had to. 

Even if they did make it through this alive, what could they possibly say to each other now? He had brought her close to betraying her marriage vows. She had put him in mortal danger. Yet all she could think about was finding him and getting them out of here. The alternative was unthinkable. She couldn't bear the thought of going on without him.

When she could stare at the cot no longer, she closed her eyes, but sleep came unwillingly. When she did manage to doze off, she dreamed of Vaughn in a white room, tied to a chair under bright lights, bruised and bloody. Sometimes he was surrounded by faceless men, and sometimes it was only one man -- the one who had brought them here. He made slow cuts as Vaughn yelled, and Sydney woke up trembling. 

After the latest awakening, she found her head pounding and her mouth dry and chalky. Her glass was empty, so she could only curl up and will her mouth to water on its own. She felt helpless, lying here as an uncertain end crept ever closer. Perhaps they would kill her, perhaps set her free. Maybe they had already killed Vaughn. The not knowing was torturous.

She drifted off again and in her dream, found herself back in the white room, but this time the blond man was not there. It was only her and Vaughn. He sat before her, strapped to the chair, his eyes sad as he watched her come closer. She looked down to find a knife in her hand, and slowly she used it to cut a bloody line across his chest.

"I only wanted to protect you," he said. "But you brought me here. You killed me."

She cut again, and he screamed.

"Wake up! Sydney, wake up!"

Someone was shaking her shoulders, and she struggled to open her eyes.

"Vaughn?" she asked blearily.

"No."

As she came more awake, she looked at the man sitting beside her on the cot, but it took several seconds before her sleepy mind recognized him. The blond man, her captor. He had woken her up.

"I heard screaming," she said.

"That was you." He put a glass in her hands. "Drink this."

She peered at it, distrustful of his intentions.

"It's water. You're thirsty. Drink."

She took a cautious sip, then confident that it was indeed water, she started to gulp it down greedily.

"Slow down, or you'll throw it up," he said.

She did as he asked, but eyed him suspiciously. "What are you playing at?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're the soul of courtesy now. Last time, you threatened me with Vaughn's life."

"Would you have eaten otherwise?"

"No."

"Despite what you think, Ms. Hecht, I am not your enemy."

"You shot me and Agent Vaughn. You kidnapped us, and you chained me to the wall."

"I was under orders. It's nothing personal."

"That's so reassuring," she said sarcastically.

He stood and looked down on her with an amused smile. "You're not afraid of me, are you? I like that, it shows strength. In a way, you remind me of me. I think we would get along quite nicely."

"You and I are nothing alike."

He smiled at her again in that irritating way that made her fists clench, then turned to leave. He opened the door, letting in a flood of bright light that made Sydney squint.

Before he could vanish through the door, leaving her alone again with only her tormented thoughts, Sydney yelled out, "What have you done with Vaughn?"

She didn't expect an answer. She expected him to walk away and leave her to agonize over the fate of her friend. Instead, he turned slowly in the doorway and regarded her. He looked regretful, but surely that must be a trick of her mind. This man would show no real compassion for her.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hecht," he said, "but you will not see him again."

"What? What do you mean?" she asked, but the door shut and he was gone. "No, come back! What do you mean? Is he dead? Tell me!"

The man did not return, and Sydney screamed out her frustration. He couldn't just leave her like this! She had to know! She pried at the chains around her ankles, tugged at where they latched to the wall. She pulled and scratched and yelled, beyond reason as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You're wrong! He's not dead!" she yelled at the door. "You hear me?"

Still the man did not return, but she did not give up her tirade for a long time.

#

The next time Sydney woke, it was to a pounding at the door. Once, twice something thudded against it, echoing through the room. The light bulb shook and swung on its cord above her. She couldn't guess what was happening, but she feared it meant danger.

After the third booming impact, Sydney started to look for a weapon, anything she could use to defend herself against whoever came through, but all she had was her empty water glass. She hit it against the floor and the rim shattered, creating a jagged edge. It wasn't much, but holding it made her feel more prepared.

The fourth time was loudest. Sydney jumped as the door crashed inward, rocking off its hinges and filling the room with blinding light. Something big fell through onto the floor. She could make out the shape of a person, face first on the concrete. He wasn't moving.

Sydney's heart pounded, and she grasped her makeshift weapon in both hands. Someone was about to come through, and she could only hope for a friend. Vaughn, or her father. But it could just as likely be someone come to kill her.

A slim figure appeared in the doorway, a black silhouette against the light, and stepped over the unmoving body, boot heels tapping on the floor. The figure leaned over the unconscious man and took something from him. It jangled in hand as the person approached, and still the light blinded Sydney from seeing who it was. She blinked furiously.

"Sydney. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

She froze. She knew that voice.

"Mom?"

"You sound surprised." Irina knelt by her cot and grabbed her ankle. Sydney couldn't help but flinch. "Hold still so I can get these off you."

The chain fell away from one leg and Irina threw it aside. Sydney set down her jagged glass as her mother used the guard's keys to unlock the chain on her other leg. Free of the constraints, she swung her feet around the side of the cot and to the floor.

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

"I'm rescuing you. Take this." She handed over a gun and drew another from a holster at her hip. "Do you know how to use it?"

"I never have before," Sydney said as she almost dropped it. She hadn't expected it to be so heavy.

Still, it felt familiar, holding the weapon. It fit her hand perfectly. She slid the clip out, found it fully loaded and snapped it back into place before she even realized what she was doing. How had she known to do that? Irina gave her a strange look but said nothing as she took Sydney's hand and led her toward the door.

"We have to find Vaughn," Sydney said.

Irina shook her head. "No time. I've rigged explosives, to stop anyone from pursuing us. The building will blow in less than ten minutes."

"So we'll be quick."

"He might not even be in the building."

"But what if he is?" Sydney jerked back from her mother's grip. "I'm not leaving without Vaughn. He's my friend, and I won't let him die."

Irina grasped her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "We do not have time. We must get out now, or _we_ will die. Do you understand?"

Sydney nodded slowly, her heart breaking at the thought of losing Vaughn, but her mother was right. They couldn't gamble their lives on the slim chance of finding him in time.

Irina pulled the unconscious guard into the room then peeked around the door frame, her finger on the trigger of her gun. She stayed there for several seconds before nodding to Sydney, and the two of them crept into the hallway.

This was the first Sydney had seen of the building outside her small room. It looked like an office setup with blandly painted walls and beige carpet. Plain wooden doors lined both sides of the hall. About 50 feet away was an elevator, but Irina took them the other way.

They moved quickly. Sydney followed Irina's lead in sliding along with her back to the wall -- so no one could get behind them, she assumed. The gun felt heavy in her hands, and her ankles ached where she had been chained, but she tried to ignore the pain.

As they reached an adjoining hallway, Irina looked around the corner before going on. They turned left, past more doors. Some of these had windows in them, revealing what looked like science labs inside. There were more cots like the one Sydney had slept on, and white counters littered with bottles of liquids, but she couldn't linger to examine more closely. They had to keep moving.

At the far end of the hallway was a door with an exit sign overhead. Sydney wanted to run for it but she restrained herself.

Ahead of her, Irina stopped and jumped back a step, and Sydney almost bumped into her back. She pointed at the door beside them and gestured downward. Sydney understood. Someone was in there, and they had to stay beneath the window to avoid being seen. Irina went first and Sydney ducked low to follow, but she couldn't help but straighten up a little to peek inside. What she saw made her gasp. It was Vaughn!

He was lying on a cot, still unconscious, his shirt draped over a chair beside him. His arm was bandaged from the cut he had suffered in the alley behind the restaurant only days before, but it felt like a hundred years ago. All around him were examining tables, counters and glass cabinets full of bottles and boxes. He appeared to be alone in the room.

She tried the door knob but found it locked, so she banged her fist against the small window. Maybe the sound would wake him up.

"Sydney!" her mother whispered. "Come on!"

"It's Vaughn," she said. "The door's locked."

"We must go."

"Not without him."

They glared at each other, Irina looking more desperate and pleading than Sydney had ever seen, but this time, Sydney would not back down. She didn't care that her mother could probably knock her out and drag her from the building. Vaughn was in this mess because of her, and she would get him out of it.

Finally, Irina looked down and nodded. "All right, Sydney. We'll do it your way, just --"

A loud popping noise made Sydney duck instinctively. A second one followed as Irina yanked her toward the floor, and something sped over their heads. Two men stood down the hallway the way they had come from, guns in hand. Irina fired back, and the men dodged around a corner. She pointed her next shot at the door knob beside them. Sydney tensed as sparks flew.

"Get Vaughn and yourself out of here!" her mother yelled.

"What about you?"

The men fired again, and Sydney pressed herself against the wall as her mother shot back.

"I'll lead those men away from you. Just get out quickly!"

Before Sydney could answer, Irina took off down the corridor toward the men. Sydney threw her weight against the door, and it fell open. She ran inside.

"Vaughn! Wake up!" she yelled.

He didn't respond, and she thought for the first time, what if he weren't asleep, but dead? Her hand trembled as she felt at his neck, then relaxed when she found his pulse, slow but strong. She grabbed his shoulders and shook.

"Vaughn!"

He turned his head and mumbled something she couldn't understand. Damn it! Trying to wake him this way would take too long, and if her mother had told the truth about those explosives, they had about five minutes. She couldn't carry him. She had to find another way.

She wrenched open one of the cabinets and scanned the bottle labels, finding nothing that sounded familiar. She didn't dare use any of it. Danny had told her too many stories of people rushed to the emergency room who had overdosed on unknown chemicals. But surely the doctors there must use something to jolt awake their failing patients. Something strong enough to wake Vaughn now.

Oh, of course! Danny had spoken many times of using Adrenalin on his patients. With some luck, she might find some here. She certainly hoped so because it was their only chance. She rummaged through another cabinet, and Vaughn moaned again.

"Come on, Vaughn," she muttered. "Wake up."

"Syd?"

She spun around, hoping for a miracle, but his eyes remained closed and his body limp on the table. He was only talking in his sleep.

"Damn it," she muttered and yanked open a drawer beneath the counter. Several small glass bottles rolled about and clanked into each other, one with the word Adrenalin in big bold letters across the label. "Oh, thank God. Now where's a syringe?"

She found one in the next drawer over and filled it halfway, her best guess at how much would be needed for a full-grown man. She held it steady in both hands, poised over Vaughn's heart, then took a deep breath and plunged it in.

He yelled and bolted upright, the needle sticking straight out from his chest, and stared at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. She yanked out the syringe, threw his shirt at him and grabbed his hand to pull him toward the door.

"Syd? What?" he asked, his voice panicky. "What the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain later. The building is about to explode. We have to run."

She pointed her gun around the door frame before peeking out, relieved to see the two men were gone. She hoped Irina had made it out OK, but they had no time to look for her. Behind her, Vaughn was pulling on his shirt and rubbing at his chest.

They ran down the hallway and through the door marked exit, then down three flights of stairs before finding a door that led outside. The night was cold, and Sydney's breath puffed out in clouds as they raced across a wide lawn and into the trees.

Suddenly a roar exploded behind them like nothing she had ever heard before. The ground shook and threw her down, with Vaughn tumbling beside her. She covered her ears and shut her eyes against the flash of light. Something slammed down next to her, and then it was over and she dared to look.

The building -- or what was left of it -- was in flames, making the grounds as bright as day. Chunks of debris lay scattered all around. A hunk on concrete as big as her head was only inches from where she had fallen. Smoke rose from the building like a thick, black curtain, accompanied by a stench that made her stomach churn.

Vaughn stood and helped her to her feet, and they both stared at the devastation.

"My God," he said. "How many people were in there?"

"I don't know," she answered, then sucked in her breath. Irina! Had she made it out, or was she in there when the explosives went off? Sydney was not going to let her mother die now, not when she had just found her.

She had run only a few steps toward the wreckage before Vaughn caught her shoulder and spun her around.

"What are you doing?"

"My mother might be in there!"

He shook his head. "If she was, going back won't do any good. Just look at it. No one could have survived that."

"I won't lose her again, Vaughn."

"It's too late, Sydney. I'm sorry."

He pulled her into his arms and held her there, close against his chest, as they watched the building burn. Sydney held in her tears. If this was her mother's pyre, at least she had ended her life doing something good. She had saved her daughter, and Sydney swore she would never forget.

"We have to get out of here," Vaughn said, then looked around. "Where are we anyway?"

"I don't know."

"And what happened back there? You say your mother was in there?"

She nodded. "You and I were being held captive. She set the explosives and then came to free me. I saw you, and she ran off after two men with guns while I tried to get you out."

"You shot me with something. Adrenalin?"

"It was the only thing I could think of."

"It hurt like hell," he said, and grinned. "But it was an excellent idea. We'll make an agent of you yet."

She grinned back. "Sydney Hecht, super spy."

"It has a nice ring to it."

"So what do we do now?"

Vaughn scanned the area and pointed back through the trees. "It looks like there's a road there. We can follow it. With this big a fire, there's bound to be emergency personnel arriving soon. They can help us."

She nodded numbly, and they started walking. After three steps, she passed out.

##


	13. chapter 13

**Title:** Into the Deep  
**Author:** Jennifer Campbell  
**Fandom:** Alias  
**Spoilers:** General season 2  
**Pairings:** Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue.

**Notes:** Here it is, folks: the last chapter. Yes, I know it has been six months since I last posted. All I can say is that since the last chapter went up, my family has bought a house, moved in and I've gotten pregnant. So I've had lots of contend with in the real world. Sorry for the delay. 

Because this is my last chance on this story, I want to thank Neptune, who betaed most of the story and did a wonderful job. I also want to thank all of you who have taken the time to read my story and send feedback. I really appreciate it. 

##

The first thing she became aware of as she awoke was the roar of engines, and that the rough surface she was lying on suddenly lurched down from under her. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to clear away the blurriness of a long sleep. The floor lurched again, and she sat up.

"Don't worry. It's just turbulence."

She turned to see Vaughn beside her, sitting on a wooden crate. He smiled and took her hand in his. Sydney knew she should pull away, but right now she was so relieved to see him alive and well that she couldn't bring herself to lose his warm touch.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She glanced at their surroundings -- a narrow, cramped space mostly filled with boxes and netting. She found herself on a small canvas cot. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere over the Atlantic, I think. Although it's difficult to tell at night."

"We're going home?" she asked hopefully.

His smiled broadened and he nodded. "Yeah, we're going home. Syd, you're sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I feel fine. Why?"

"You're been unconscious for almost two days, since the night of the escape. We were starting to get worried."

"We?"

Before he could answer, from somewhere to her left, a door shut with a metallic clank, and a familiar figure dodged around some netting and approached them. Vaughn dropped her hand as Sydney grinned and stood to hug her father. Jack's arms wrapped around her tightly for a moment before he backed away a step.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"After I learned of your kidnapping, I came to find you."

"I'm glad you're here."

He gave her a rare smile. "So am I. Do you remember everything that happened?"

She almost laughed at the absurd thought of forgetting any of the ordeal, even one second of it. That dank room, Vaughn unconscious and injured, the heroic rescue by her mother -- those images would be with her for the rest of her life. She had finally gotten her espionage adventure, and it had been more dangerous -- and exciting -- than she could have imagined. No spy novel would ever do it justice.

"Mom was there, Dad," she said. "Before the building blew up. I don't know if she made it out."

Jack and Vaughn exchanged a wary look.

"Vaughn mentioned you had said something about her."

"She's the one who got me out. She helped me free Vaughn."

"I see."

Jack's face became unreadable, in that way Sydney knew all too well. He was about to tell her something she wouldn't like. She glanced at Vaughn, who immediately lowered his eyes to his hands, folded in his lap. They both were acting much too strangely.

"You don't believe me," Sydney said quietly.

Vaughn sighed. "I think you need to sit down."

She silently complied, sinking onto the cot across from Vaughn, and looked expectantly at them both. Her chest tightened and her stomach hurt, neither of which, she knew, had anything to do with the airplane's rolling movements.

"Sydney, it's not that we don't believe you," Jack said. "I do believe your mother was in that building and that she appeared to be helping you, but appearances aren't always what they seem."

"Dad, I don't understand."

He sighed and sat beside her. "Your mother was the one who orchestrated your kidnapping."

For a moment, she couldn't find the words to respond. She felt like someone had punched her in the gut and all the air had left her body. It couldn't be true. Granted, Irina Derevko wasn't a good person. In the short time since she had first contacted Sydney, she had escaped from CIA custody with stolen property and killed an agent. But she had not lied to her daughter. Not once. Why would she start now?

"Syd, I know this is hard," Vaughn said, his gentle voice coming from what seemed very far away. "But your father is telling you the truth. You have to believe him."

"But why?" she asked, her voice throaty with emotion. "Why would she do that?"

Jack answered. "If you are referring to the staged rescue, I can only surmise that she wanted to gain your trust and convince you to join her in her operations. If you mean the kidnapping itself, she was holding you and Agent Vaughn hostage because she knew I would be willing to exchange anything for your safe release."

"What's so important that she would kidnap us to get it?" she asked, and then, before her father could reply, the answer came to her in a rush.

She remembered her mother's words of not so long ago. They had sat across each other in the mall food court, and Sydney had asked Irina what she was doing in Los Angeles. She remembered her mother's answer: _I was here to steal something from the CIA. Something valuable,_ she had said. _A very old box._

Sydney gave her father a frank look. "You gave it to her. You gave her the box."

Jack was astonished. "How do you know about that?"

"She told me. She said it was a key to something. Something powerful. I didn't really understand. Do you know what she was meant?"

Jack shook his head. "Irina claims to know more about the box than the CIA has managed to find out. But that is an issue for another day." He stood and straightened his shirt. "You need to rest now. We'll be in Los Angeles in a few hours, and the CIA will want your full report."

She nodded and laid down on the cot without complaint. Despite two days of sleeping, she still felt exhausted by all that had happened. Vaughn gave her a reassuring smile as he too stood up.

"Dad," she said, as the two men started to walk away. They both looked back. "Do you think Mom survived?"

"I don't know," Jack answered after a long pause. "But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that your mother is very hard to kill."

#

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened? I thought the plan was to take your daughter with us."

"Plans change," Irina said tersely, without looking up from an open file on her desk. Even so, she could almost sense the smirk on Sark's face. The young man was talented, but he also had a lot to learn -- like how not to gloat when those more experienced than himself failed in their objectives.

"That's too bad. I looked forward getting to know your daughter under more cordial circumstances. I like her. She has spirit."

"Yes, she does. It has a tendency to get her into trouble."

"What do you mean?"

Irina glanced up at Sark, who stood before her desk with a genuinely curious expression -- no hint of sarcasm or disrespect. It made him look younger. For the first time, she realized that Sark and Sydney were of a similar age, yet how different they were. He wouldn't understand Sydney's selfless act of saving her friend because his own sense of self-preservation was too strong. He couldn't comprehend that level of concern for someone else.

"After Sydney spotted the CIA agent, she refused to leave without him," Irina explained. "She would have rather died trying to get him out. At that point, I knew it was over. We couldn't take Agent Vaughn with us, so I had no choice but to let her go. I left her to free him while I reset the bomb to give them enough time to escape."

"That was rather foolish of her, risking her life on the possibility of saving that agent."

"That's the way she is," Irina said. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, actually, I came to report that our people are still working on translating the writing on the boxes. Apparently it's taking longer than they expected because of the complexity of the coding. One box cannot be read without the other. Quite ingenious, really."

"When do they think they'll be finished."

"By morning, if all goes well. Then we will finally know what it is Rambaldi wrote. I only hope it is worth the effort that has been put into it."

"Have some faith, Sark."

"Not if I can help it. What is our next move?"

Irina gave him an enigmatic smile. "Ask me that again in the morning."

#

Vaughn pulled up slowly to the curb across from Sydney's house, which Sydney decided might be the most welcome site she had ever seen. Tiny lights in many colors hung above the garage, and through the front window she could see the star blinking atop the tree. If the lights were on, that meant Danny was home. She had hoped to beat him back, not wanting to explain her absence, but she also looked forward to seeing him again.

"It's a nice house," Vaughn said as he flipped off the headlights and engine. "It reminds me a little of the one I grew up in."

"We like it," Sydney replied quietly. "Thank you for driving me home."

"It's my pleasure. I know your dad was stuck writing his report, and I didn't want you to have to take a taxi after getting grilled like that."

"Devlin is meticulous, isn't he."

He gave her an understated smile. "A little bit."

"I did OK, though, right? In giving my report."

"You did fine."

She flashed him a smile, then turned her gaze back to the house. It suddenly felt awkward, sitting here with Vaughn while her husband waited inside, yet she didn't want to leave. The moment she walked through the front door, her adventure would end. Time to return to the daily routine. No more intrigue or secrets or sexy CIA agents. Just Christmas lights and Chinese takeout. Normality.

Vaughn laid a hand on her arm. "Hey, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'm just thinking about tomorrow. And the next day. It's going to be difficult, going back to the way things were before."

Vaughn's fingers tightened around her arm, and he looked away.

She asked, "What is it?"

After a moment, he responded hesitantly, as though he were reluctant to speak. "Devlin asked me to pass something onto you. I didn't know whether to actually do it ..."

"Vaughn, what is it?"

His jaw tightened and he sighed. "He said to tell you that the agency is in need of some good, young talent. To become field agents."

She drew back from him in disbelief. "Are you saying that Devlin is offering me a job? With the CIA?"

Vaughn nodded. "He was impressed with your conduct during this whole thing with your mother. He thinks you have what it takes."

Sydney felt lightheaded and somewhat detached, like in a dream, and she fell back heavily into her seat. Was Vaughn really saying this to her? She had fantasized so many times about such a moment, after setting aside yet another spy novel and settling into bed for the night. Agent Sydney Hecht. A far cry from a high school English teacher.

She licked her lips nervously. "Devlin thinks I could be a CIA field agent."

"Yes."

"What do you think?"

"I think you could be one of the best," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "But Sydney, you have to understand that it's not an easy life. There's months of rigorous training, and if you pass all the tests and become field rated, it becomes even more difficult. It's dangerous work. You're away from home a lot. You couldn't tell anyone about what you really do, not even Danny. And once you're in, it's tough to get back out."

She looked down at her lap. "You're saying I shouldn't do it."

"I'm saying that you should do it only if you can't imagine yourself doing anything else. This isn't something to enter into if you have any doubts, no matter how small."

Sydney could hear the urgency in his tone. He really meant it, and he should know, having gone through it all himself. She wondered if Vaughn were given the chance to go back and choose again, whether he would still go into this line of work.

"Thank you for being straight with me," she said. "Does my dad know about this?"

Vaughn gave a short laugh. "Are you kidding? If he knew I was involved in telling you any of this, he would have me for lunch. Why do you think Devlin asked me to give you the offer in private?"

Her euphoria crashed around her. "He doesn't want me with the CIA."

"He wants to protect you. But Syd, this is your decision. Not his."

"I know." She looked up at him. "But I can't give you an answer now. I need time to think about it."

"I understand."

She nodded and reached for the door handle.

"Sydney."

She looked back at him, her hand frozen on the door.

"There's something else, completely unrelated to the CIA. About what happened in Paris --"

"I'm fine. Really. You had it worse than I did."

"I'm not talking about that. I mean before. At the hotel."

"Oh." She ducked her head to hide her reddening cheeks. The kiss, he meant. The one she almost didn't pull away from. She had hoped to avoid talking about that tonight, but it seemed Vaughn was determined to bring it into the open.

"You don't have to say anything," he said after she fell silent. "But there's something I need you to say to you. I know that kissing you was wrong. You're married, and I had no right. But, Sydney..." He paused and took a trembling breath. "Syd, I don't regret it. I can't."

She glanced up, and their eyes met and locked. He had looked at her this way before, with so much heat and longing, but she hadn't recognized it for what it was until now. Or maybe she had simply been too scared to acknowledge it. Vaughn didn't want her friendship, he wanted her love. He was asking for it now without a word, and despite what he said, he desperately wanted an answer from her. But she couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. She wasn't free to do so.

"That night," she said carefully, "was a low point for me. I had found out my mother was alive and an enemy of the United States. My father was a double-agent, and people he works with might be after me. I was exhausted and scared, and I felt so alone. I needed comfort. I'm sorry I didn't think through the consequences beforehand because I never meant to hurt you."

"Comfort." He repeated the word with barely concealed revulsion, and she winced. "Is that all it was to you?"

Sydney closed her eyes, to escape the disappointment on his face, and her mind skipped back to that night. That moment. His hand caressing her cheek, the warmth of his body, the exquisite feel of his mouth meshed with hers. She had wanted him badly. She still did. But as much as it pained her, she couldn't tell him the truth. He deserved a woman who could devote herself to him completely, not a woman already wearing a band of gold, and the sooner he moved past her the better for both of them.

Her hand closed around the door handle and she clicked it open. "Good night, Vaughn," she said, trying but failing to keep her voice steady.

She heard his long, shuddering breath, but she didn't turn back. One more look at him and she might lose her resolve.

"Good night, Sydney."

She swallowed hard and stepped out of the car.

Vaughn watched her cross the street and make her way across the yard. The front door opened before she reached it, and a man came running out, down the porch stairs, to engulf her in a tight embrace. There under the multicolored lights, he kissed her soundly. Sydney kissed him back, and Vaughn looked away.

No tears threatened. Those would come later. All he felt now was an emptiness, a vacancy where before he had held onto a shred of hope that she might return his feelings. That someday she might choose him over Danny. He had been a fool to cling to such a dream. She had given her vows to another and had taken his name, and that was it.

Still, he couldn't ignore the heat in their kiss; she had shown a passion that clearly matched his own. That had been no mere search for comfort, no matter what she might claim now, but she had made her choice. He would honor it.

He watched as Danny and Sydney walked into the house and shut the door. He restarted the engine, turned on the radio and headed home.

#

Danny snored softly with one arm draped over Sydney's stomach, but despite hours of trying, Sydney couldn't follow him into sleep. She could hardly close her eyes without replaying it all in her mind. The first time she saw her mother in the school parking lot, meeting Vaughn at the warehouse, learning that her father was in the CIA, leaving for Paris, the kidnapping and the escape.

The danger had been real, and she had been frightened, but at the same time she had never felt so alive. Going back to a classroom would never compare with the life she could lead. She wasn't naive; she knew the CIA's job offer came with a price: She could never tell Danny or her friends, and one day she might not come home at all. Was it worth it? Was all that a price she was willing to pay?

She sighed, moved aside her husband's arm and slipped out of bed. Danny rolled over but did not wake, and Sydney pulled on a robe and headed out to the living room. She sat on the couch for what seemed hours and stared out the window, watching Christmas lights blink on houses down the street. Lying to Danny over the past week had hurt them both deeply, and she wasn't sure she could make a habit of it and maintain a healthy relationship. Maybe she should dismiss the whole thing. Maybe it was only a fool's dream.

She sighed and got up from the couch, stretching muscles that hadn't moved in too long. She took a few steps back toward the bedroom but then stopped. Something caught her eye. There, in the corner behind the Christmas tree was something small and dark.

She reached back and her hand closed on something soft. It was Tudy the stuffed bear, sitting as patiently as could be, with something white slipped between his paws. A piece of paper. She took Tudy back to the couch and anxiously unfolded the paper. On it were written only three words.

"Truth takes time."

Her mother had left this, of that Sydney was certain. Jack had told her of his encounter with Irina in the house, so she had had ample opportunity to leave a message for her daughter. But why, and why these cryptic words? Perhaps she had meant to remind Sydney that she wasn't gone, that this wasn't over. Truth takes time. It sounded like a promise that perhaps one day, Sydney would understand everything -- the meaning behind the box, her mother's intentions, the reason why she abandoned her family in the first place and why she had returned. Truth takes time.

But Sydney would only learn if she prepared, studied, readied for that truth. And the tools she needed weren't Shakespearian plays and boxes of chalk, as she would find in her familiar classroom. No, what she needed could come from only one place, and the chance to seize on it lay before her now, ready for the taking if only she had the courage to go forward. But what about Danny? What about the danger and lonliness? Those consequences, she decided, would resolve themselves in time.

Her mind made up, she left Tudy on the couch and marched into the kitchen to find paper and a pen. She sat at the table and started to write.

To: Principal Snyder  
From: Sydney Hecht

Mr. Snyder,

This letter is to inform you of my resignation, effective immediately.

She stopped to study the words, and as their full meaning sunk in, a slow smile crept across her face. Tomorrow she would deliver this to the school, and then go directly to CIA headquarters to talk with Director Devlin.

So this night wasn't the end of her adventure after all, she thought as she resumed her writing. No, it wasn't an ending at all. It was only the beginning.

The end.


End file.
